


All The Broken Pieces

by OpaqueXApathy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Age Play, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Sam Winchester, Baby Dean, Bathing/Washing, Daddy!Cas, Daddy!Sam, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feeding, Fluff, Hand Feeding, Infantilism, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Multiple Personality Disorder, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Protective Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Slice of Life, Toddler Dean, adult regression, alternative universe, baby!dean - Freeform, big brother Sammy, bottle feeding, bottles, extremely background relationships, little Dean can be an assbutt, mentions of a personality disorder, non-sexual infantilism, sooooo much fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpaqueXApathy/pseuds/OpaqueXApathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiding Dean's multiple personality disorder (especially from Dean) had never been easy. It was even more impossible to explain to him that one personality was four months old, the other three years old.</p><p>OR a group of one shots I didn't know what to do with on the same concept. I wanted to explore this concept (mostly a baby!Dean) but didn't really want to write a series of chapters or start a series. The first one leaves off at the end of Supernatural Season 10, episode 2 with Sam with a demon (Dean) in the backseat of the Impala. But I'm assuming the stories will jump around a ton. All of them are one completed one shots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Demon In the Rear View

**Author's Note:**

> Sam's got his older brother back but now he's a demon. In light of it all Sam worries about Dean's other personalities. He's relieved to note that one in particular is just fine but now he's got a toddler on his hands. But with a little help from a certain angel - they'll be all right.
> 
> {{Comments are loved and adored. All these stories or 'chapters' are one shots on the same concept and will mostly feature baby Dean. As easily as I'm assuming it would be for Dean to have multiple personality disorder this is probably all just an excuse to get him in diapers. Yeah. You caught me.}}

 

 

 

 

 

Sam gripped the wheel of the Impala tightly in a one handed, white knuckle grip. He kept telling himself to relax his hand, forcing himself to do so every so often, but eventually he ended up the same way. Driving the Impala with one hand on the steering wheel like he was holding onto it for dear life. Like all his tension, exhaustion, and emotional turmoil could be centered on the leather wrapped steering wheel.

He could cure Dean. He just knew he could and he refused to believe anything otherwise. He wouldn’t stop until he did.

Sam glanced up at the rear view mirror, considering calling Castiel. If anything just to make sure he was all right. Dean looked to be sleeping in the back seat but Sam wasn’t believing anything he was doing for a second. The amulet cuffs were doing their job and making him pretty pliant, forcefully so, but Dean for the most part after they were on hadn’t even tried to fight. He’d been angry enough. His eyes had gone black, he’d growled and cursed and even spit in his direction and promised him all sorts of things he’d do to him but he’d calmed down fast.

It killed Sam to see Dean this way. He was also seriously on edge about his multiple personality disorder. It seemed like Dean had a new personality and he was hoping it was supernatural inflicted and curable because he didn’t like Demon Dean one bit. Had it affected his alternate personalities? Were they just as twisted and screwed up now as Dean was? It was a horrifying thought.

Sam heard a sound from the back, almost like Dean might be having a nightmare. He certainly had made the noise in his sleep but now that he was getting more conscious - starting to lift his head - another sound almost came out like a high pitched whimper.

“Dean?” Sam asked, concerned, for the life of him he couldn’t help it. As easily as this could be a trap there was no way he couldn’t worry about his big brother.

Dean lifted his head, slowly, and there was no question he was weak from the cuffs and the dousing of holy water. He gave a confused look around the Impala, eyes unfocused. “Sam?”

And it was the pitch of it, the tone, the inexplicably and completely vulnerable note to his voice that had Sam’s heart skipping a beat in shock. It seemed like maybe some of his alters were intact, hopefully all of them, and maybe unaffected from the Mark and what it had done to Dean. He’d scarcely dared to hope.

“Oh, hey.” Sam soothed immediately, glancing at him whenever he could through the mirror and when he could spare his eyes from the road. He was already looking for a place to turn off, hoping the three year old he now had in the backseat wouldn’t panic. “Hey buddy. Everything’s okay. I’m right here.”

Dean didn’t seem to think so, completely aware now that his hands were handcuffed. And he was scared, Sam carefully but quickly pulling the Impala off the road as easy as he could.

“Sam?” he asked again and Sam quickly reached for his seat belt once they were stopped and the car was in park and off. Dean’s voice was approaching panic and Sam soothingly shushed him.

“You’re okay buddy. I’m coming.”

“Did I do something bad?”

By the time he got around to his side of the car to answer the question, Dean was already fighting back tears. “Oh no, Dean. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re okay.” Sam reassured him, pulling the passenger seat forward with his good hand - the only one he had. From what he could tell this was a geniuine regression and not a demon trick. He could feel that in his gut. He’d cared for toddler Dean enough to know this alter better than his own brother. It was his brother. Which made it all the easier.

“Off.” Dean demanded, gesturing to the cuffs with his wrists, though it was a weak demand.

“I can’t buddy.” Sam winced, putting a hand on Dean’s leg and desperately trying to think of a way to explain the situation. “I had to put them on you to keep you safe.”

“But good guys put cuffs on bad guys.”

“Not always.” Sam soothed, fighting back a wince. He never, ever wanted Dean’s alters anywhere near the supernatural and this was just too close for his liking. When his regressions happened or when an alter made a rare appearance than he took Dean straight to the bunker or to Bobby’s without question. They left the life until Dean checked back in. “Sometimes they can protect people from bad things. We’ll take them off soon I promise but we just have to get home first.”

“You’re not wearing them.”

“I have to drive. And my arms hurt. But don’t worry I’ll be okay.” Sam was suddenly wishing for Cas. Bad. Anyone at all to help. But he was alone with Dean now and maybe for the rest of the trip back. If he drove through the night it might be just until morning.

Dean’s bottom lip quivered but he was putting on a brave front, giving Sam a look through his eyelashes. “Can I ride up front with you?”

“You bet.” Sam said immediately, reaching for Dean’s arm to help him up. Dean had forgone a seat belt in the car earlier and though the cuffs had made Dean pliant he hadn’t wanted to risk a knee to the face to bend over and buckle him in. He also probably would have gotten a whole lot of mocking from the demon on top of everything else.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, stumbling a little bit as he got out of the car but Sam caught him - really wishing his arm was out of his sling right about now.

“Yeah honey.” Sam asked and anything Dean wanted at this point would probably be his. He was actually more relieved to see one of Dean’s alters than he could put words too. Having his older brother, a demon, in the car with him had been pretty unnerving. He could only imagine how Dean had felt riding months with him when he’d been soulless. Or posessed by an angel. Really when he thought of, it was effortless to understand why he was fighting so hard for Dean now.

“Potty.” Dean said, fidgeting on his feet.

He had to go if he was telling him. Toddler Dean could be pretty shy, even around Sam and wasn’t exactly completely potty trained. But he did good. Especially for how old a psychologist had placed his age.

“Okay.” Sam said, thinking fast. “Can you hold yourself like a big boy?”

Dean quickly nodded and Sam put a hand on his arm, guiding him over towards a ditch. It wasn’t a far walk but there were some trees this close to the road and Sam figured a bit more privacy couldn’t hurt. He couldn’t help but be on edge. He was well aware all this could be a trap or a trick but that was just it - he could feel it wasn’t. Dean was mostly in denial about his personality disorder. He refused to even acknowledge it and for the longest time Sam had had to keep it from him out of fear of Dean not being able to cope with it at all. He really hadn’t taken it well and that was an understatement.

Sam unbuttoned Dean’s pants and unzipped them, pushing them down around his hips. “I’ll hold your pants up. Take yourself out of your briefs for me.”

Dean did and Sam was quick to praise him, “Good boy. I won’t look.”

“M’scared.” Dean said, giving the woods around them an unsteady look and Sam glanced around, keeping a very decent eye out for anything. Nothing had made him more paranoid over the months than hurting his arm as bad as he’d ever hurt anything, being rendered to only using one arm, and subsequently losing nearly thirty pounds of muscle being of his complete inability to work out. As a hunter though he refused to be as vulnerable as a civilian.

“I know buddy but I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Promise?”

Sam bit back an inward wince. “I promise.”

After a long few minutes Dean finally finished and Sam helped him with his pants. Just about the time, on the lonely stretch of highway they were on, that car headlights could be seen in the distance coming towards them. The Impala was parked well on the side and Sam firmly chastised himself for thinking it was anyone else but a passing driver but nearly ten years of the life he’d had and it was easy to becoming a raging paranoid.

Sam escorted Dean back out of the woods with a hand on his arm, worried about the handcuffs if anyone stopped. He was hoping he’d look like any FBI agent escorting a prisoner. He was hoping no one would look twice and the driver would just keep going. But with a sinking feeling, he watched as it started to slow.

It was an old beat up truck, on it’s last leg probably and almost as old as Sam, but as the headlights shut off and a sole figure got out - Sam’s eyes readjusted to the dark and he blinked in shock. It was kind of hard not to recognize that silhouette.

“Cas?”

“Sam?” the angel asked. “You found Dean.”

Dean made an unsure, confused noise beside him and Cas tensed.

By now each of the three men could easily speak without words and Sam nodded, confirming his unspoken question. “Yeah.”

Cas quickly stepped forward, previous cautious thrown to the wind and Sam could see some of the tension had left him. He’d probably been prepared to be facing down demon Dean and Sam didn’t blame him. It was more than a little comforting to have one of his alters instead. It was more Dean, his brother, than the actual man itself right now.

“You all right, Dean? We were worried about you.” Cas said, eyes soft and gravely voice kind.

Dean nodded, sending Sam an unsure glance. “I don’t know where I went.”

“It’s okay.” Sam said. “Not far.”

It was usually what he said when one alter left and came back. Seemed to be the most comforting answer.

“Cas I need to get a diaper on him. Could you grab the baby bag out of the trunk?”

“Of course.” Cas said, leaving to do just that.

Sam nodded. “Thank you. Keys are in it.” he hadn’t wanted to take a hand off Dean for a second. After facing his death, his disappearance, and finding him like this... Dean didn’t have to be a regressed toddler right now for him to be just a bit clingy. Not only that but he didn’t know how long he was going to stay like this. And with Cas as weak as he was, there was no chance he was letting his older brother near him without him around.

“We’re going to put a diaper on you just in case, Dean.” Sam said, rubbing a hand over his back. “Then we’ll head back home. You hungry?”

Dean nodded and Sam gently patted his back. “We’ll get you something to eat as soon as we can.”

Sam noted the way Cas was moving as he got the baby bag out of the trunk, a far bigger one than for regular babies, the slowness, the exhaustion lining his shoulders. He took note of the cough, slight but completely abnormal to someone who should be impervious to those kinds of things, as he set the baby bag on the open passenger side of the Impala.

The younger Winchester guided Dean towards it, Cas moving to take off his trench coat. “Here.” he said, laying it out on the ground. “This will have to do.”

Sam’s heart warmed. “It’s perfect Cas.”

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded, already guiding Dean to the ground. But the three year old looked more than a bit lost once he was sitting. Sam wrapped an arm around him and put a hand to his neck to support his head. "C’mon, Dean. Lay down for me buddy. That’s a good boy.” he glanced back up at Cas once Dean was down on the trench coat. “Diaper and some wipes?”

Cas nodded, hiding a cough in the sleeve of his shirt and Sam’s heart skipped a beat of concern - reminding himself to pick up some cough medicine and look over Cas closer later. Right now they had to get a diaper on Dean and then head back out. To the bunker.

The angel reached out, brushing a few fingers over Dean's forehead and giving him a smile from where he was knelt by his shoulder. “Hey Dean.”

Dean didn’t say anything, Sam giving him a smile as he unbuckled his belt with one hand. It wasn’t exactly easy but the buttons and zipper were far easier. “Okay sweetheart.” Sam murmured. “I know you feel sleepy but you gotta help me out a little okay? Lift your hips for me.”

Cas reached out to help, slipping a hand underneath Dean’s hips and giving Dean a gentle look. “Up, up, up.” he told him, giving him a praising smile when he complied. “Good boy.”

Sam was infinitely grateful for the angel’s presence. The angel could practically convince the three year old Dean to do anything, even when he was in a bit of an argumentative mood which Sam was bracing himself for. The cuffs were making him sleepy. He was tired, hungry, confused and probably scared. He was waiting for the infamous Dean Winchester stubbornness anytime now.

“There we go.” Sam said, managing to tug Dean’s jeans down to his knees. “Now... I know you’re not going to like this but we have to get these briefs off. Trust me?”

Dean nodded and Sam carefully took out a knife from his boot. More than anything he didn’t want to spook Dean. More than anything he didn’t want to cut his briefs off. But with one arm and a sick and possibly dying and severely weakened angel - between them they didn’t have a choice. Getting his boots off, and his pants off, and everything else and a diaper on would be a time consuming and potentially exhausting experience.

Sam made quick work of the black briefs Dean was wearing, Cas distracting Dean with light touches to his stomach and a smile that could make the fussiest of babies calm, occasionally whispering a few words of praise to him. Sam was more than ready with some words of his own.

The younger Winchester smiled at his older brother, for the moment his younger brother and gently patted his stomach. “Promise we get you settled in a diaper we’ll find some place to eat. Okay? Maybe some pie if you’re a good boy for me?”

Dean nodded, fidgeting sleepily on the ground and giving him a spacey blink and Sam’s heart immediately melted. “Okay. Let’s get you settled.”

It didn’t take long to put the diaper on, not with Cas’ help. Without the angel’s help well Sam was sure it would have taken twice, maybe even three times as long. He really didn’t even want to consider it. They got on the road then, Cas and Sam settling Dean in the angel’s lap in the passenger side up front. Luckily the car was not only big enough but also spacious enough to accommodate two full grown men. It helped that Dean immediately curled up to him anyway, pressing close to Castiel’s chest, fisting his hands in his trench coat as the angel held him close - a hand soothing over his back in slow, large circles.

Within ten minutes, both were passed out and completely asleep. Sam himself couldn’t find the luxury but he smiled - his hands not nearly so tight on the wheel.

~FIN~


	2. Nighttime Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's three again, Sam's determined to make it through spaghetti night without losing a shirt, and Bobby realizes that home is where you make it.
> 
> {{Endless fluff with a lot of feels. I'm so plot centric that I'm sorry if this got so 'explainy'. Maybe I'll stop that as these stories go on! As always comments are appreciated and adored. I also take prompt suggestions.}}

Dean was three again.

It hadn’t happened in awhile but with as many cases they’d had over the past few months and then losing a kid to demonic possession despite all their attempts to save him... needless to stay Dean had been pretty strung out.

His older brother had quickly shut down the night before adult Dean checked out and toddler Dean checked in. Sam was honestly expecting the regression but it had still been a shock to wake up in the middle of the night to his brother in nothing but his boxers and a loose fitting shirt crawling into bed with him.

It had all but broke his heart.

Because the regressions had to be caused by extreme circumstances. Because it happened when Dean just couldn’t take anything anymore. His mind effectively shut down and a fragmented part of his psyche took over.

Sam had packed them up, tucked Dean into the Impala and driven through the day straight to Bobby’s - whom he’d called just before leaving from the hotel. The older man and former hunter was more a father to them than their own father had been and had told Sam to ‘get that boy back home’.

Sam hadn’t wasted any time doing just that.

Luckily Dean was still so exhausted from the hunt the night before that he’d been easy to handle on the road. They’d gotten some looks at a diner when they’d stopped for food but an incredible waitress had set everyone straight and had made Dean feel welcome. The good food had done wonders for them both too.

The last thing Sam had expected to find out in the middle of nowhere deep in the south was not only a great bar and restaurant - far less than a diner actually - but a remarkably open minded group of people towards Dean. Though older ladies, especially grandmother’s, seemed to especially love him. And most of the rest of the female population regressed or not.

Sam was definitely going to mark Merlot’s on the map of good food and relatively safe company. Especially when it came to a regressed Dean.

By the time they reached Bobby’s, arriving just before sunset nearly seven hours after Sam had called him from the hotel, Dean was completely asleep. The older muscle car had all but knocked him out - the steady rumble of the engine and the complete lack of modern day suspension doing well to put him fast asleep and keep him there for a few hours. Sam was hoping he slept through the night but he knew he’d have to wake him up to eat something. All Dean had had were fries and chicken nuggets at the last diner and that was a few hours before he’d fallen asleep.

Add that to the two plus hours he’d already been sleeping and Sam knew he had to feed him now or face the wrath of a hungry, tired and mentally three year old Dean probably at three or four in the morning.

He chose feeding him now.

Luckily his older brother loved food so much that it wasn’t too much work to convince him to eat something even as tired as he was. Even as mentally old as he currently was.

Thanks to help from a certain angel, lifting Dean was never an issue. Around the time of Dean’s first alternative personality appearance in the form of ‘Baby D’ - Castiel had infused Sam’s body with a spell that was reactive to Dean and only him. At any point that Sam ever wanted to lift Dean or pick him up he could easily do so. It didn’t work on anything or anyone else and that was all right. Sam understood that certain abilities could be abused even if with the greatest intentions. He’d always respected the gift Cas had given him and was grateful that it let him care for his brother so completely.

Unbuckling his belt and lifting him from under his arms, Dean sleepily and automatically lifted his hands to put them around Sam’s shoulders - the younger Winchester talking to him softly as he lifted Dean up against his chest. “Atta boy, Dean.” he whispered, lifting a hand up to the back of his head, the other arm tucked underneath his butt and firmly grasping a hip.

Sam turned and his eyes met Bobby’s, both men sharing a look. Bobby stepped forward out of the doorway of the house and shut the door of the Impala as quiet as he could, nodding towards the house. “Get him inside.” he said gently, voice pitched soft.

“Baby bag is in the trunk.”

“I got it.” Bobby assured him. “Wait for me by the door.”

Sam did, taking the short amount of steps carefully up to the front porch. But if there was any risk of waking Dean it was minimal. His temporarily younger brother was completely out against his shoulder and Sam smiled a bit, rocking Dean gently in slight back and forth motions of his body where he stood on the decaying wood of Bobby’s front porch. “What are we going to do with you, huh?”

“Raise’em right.” Bobby said, bag in hand and another slung over his shoulder as he reached out to hold the door open for Sam. “If only we could.”

Sam agreed all too well with the statement and shared a glance with the older man. If only they could.

Bobby turned a few lights on in the hallway, shutting the door behind them quietly after he set the bags by the front steps. “His room is all ready. Had to dust it off a bit.” he said, stepping closer.

“Yeah.” Sam said, looking down at the man in his arms. “It’s been awhile.”

“He’ll be okay, Sam. However long it takes this time. We’ll set him right.”

“Yeah.” Sam whispered, rubbing a hand over Dean’s back. “Can you take him? I should get supper started.”

Bobby nodded, reaching out for Dean. “I got all that you asked for at the store. Ellen figured you boys were coming back.”

Sam fought down a grin as he passed Dean over to the older man and former hunter. He was sure Bobby didn’t even get strange looks anymore when he actually went shopping for healthy food, food that wasn’t canned, and actual ingredients to make food. But he probably had a great deal at one time that was for certain.

Castiel had given Bobby the same Enochian enchantment he’d given Sam a long time ago. When it became clear that Bobby’s place was the safest place to go while they cared for Dean the angel had extended the same to him as he had to Sam with the same amount of trust and stipulations. It had probably gotten him into serious trouble which Sam definitely didn’t like to think about. But again he was very grateful.

“C’mere, kiddo.” Bobby murmured, settling Dean against his hip as the regressed Winchester started to stir. Bobby immediately started to bounce him a little to settle him back down and opened his mouth to quiet him but Sam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, relieved Dean however accidentally was waking up on his own and not being woken later when he was sleeping far more heavily.

“Hey Dean.” Sam smiled, reaching out and rubbing a hand across his back. “About time you woke up buddy. Almost time for supper.”

Dean straightened a bit, blinking at his surroundings. As much as his mind was currently regressed and his alters were a very different and younger age than Dean, his body was that of an early thirty year old. He woke up faster, he slept lighter but far more heavily and soundly - far less that of a hunter and more the unbelievably lucky civilian that was clueless about the supernatural. There was no getting him back to sleep now, not for awhile. But all the better to feed him. Even if it meant a little bit of a late night. He’d get him back on a schedule as soon as he could but for now Sam was just happy he didn’t have to wake him up himself.

Instead of asking about Bobby, who was now holding him, he seemed to gather pretty quick where they were. And he seemed a little relieved too, relaxing a good deal in the former hunter’s arms. Instead, the first thing he asked about was the mention of food. “Supper?”

Sam breathed a laugh. “Yeah, D. How does spaghetti sound? Sound good?”

It sounded like a messy clean up and a long bath but he knew it was Dean’s favorite and that made it worth it. Each regression was like making up for the past. Like giving Dean what he’d been deprived of, told was wrong. What he’d lost when their mother had died and John had taken over. Giving Dean parental love that had come to a crashing halt way too soon.

“Sounds like the best.” Dean said, rubbing at his eyes with both hands. But while a toddler might have been dozing, Dean was already pretty awake.

“You got him Bobby?” Sam asked the older man, chuckling a bit. Dean could be a handful. He was shy when they got him home for a little bit but steadily got more bold as he progressively felt more secure. Even enough to give Bobby a workout.

“You betcha.” Bobby said, “Come on Dean. Let’s getcha changed and then how about a movie?”

Sam approved of his tactics, watching the older man head for the stairs and Dean’s ‘big boy’ room upstairs. It was right next to the nursery and the best room a three year old boy could possibly have. Sam had seen to all the details and the painstaking process of putting it altogether just as much as he had the nursery. He hadn’t wanted to miss anything, giving Dean all that he could think of in the way of a childhood he might have missed. Anything to make him feel safe.

A wooden Batmobile bed Sam had made and painted himself with Bobby’s help had high walls to make Dean feel secure and prevent him from rolling out. On the ceiling above it was a cloudy night sky painted with stars and a Bat Signal night light to chase away any nighttime fears. Beside the bed on the wall was a painted outline of Gotham city. Jess had helped with all the painting and Sam was sure if she hadn’t been a nurse she should have been an artist. But Sam’s favorite part of the skyline of Gotham and the stars were the silhouettes of superheroes standing on the buildings watching over Dean while he slept. Ten total and all his favorites.

Sam was readily adding more whenever Dean found a new one.

Sprawled out on the floor was a massive rug that looked like a two dimensional city with a whole network of roads for Dean to play with his cars on. And he had quite a bit. A large wooden castle dominated the other side of the room, Dean’s ‘Camelot’ where he loved to play knights and save princesses. And Dean loved to draw so to spare the walls Sam had built an easel on floor level onto a wall near the door with paper that could be added to it as necessary. Dean especially loved to paint but that was a supervised activity. Anything else and he had a ready supply of markers and crayons.

The other furniture in the room was a matching black and yellow Batman themed dresser and a chair beside the bed for story time or those restless nights when he needed to be rocked to sleep. But it wasn’t a baby rocker, Dean insisted on that. It was a modern black recliner with yellow overstuffed pillows that could be moved back and forth on a track, disguised enough as a regular chair that Dean happily accepted it as something a grown up would use.

“Hey Sam!”

Sam turned his head away from the stove, grinning immediately at the sight of Dean standing in the kitchen doorway, arms spread and happily showing off his new set of Batman themed pajamas. Bobby had bought them for Dean last year, after his last regression. It was hard to say it but they’d missed toddler Dean. And so when the man had showed Sam what he’d gotten him, for when and if he came back, Sam had loved the gesture. He was honestly hoping he’d see Dean wear them.

“Look at you!” Sam smiled. “You look awesome little man!”

Sam positioned the pan on the stove, meeting Dean halfway as he wandered into the kitchen. “Do you like them?”

“I love them, Sammy.” Dean said, covering up a yawn with his sleeve and then casting hopeful eyes over to the pot on the stove. “Really having spaghetti?”Although when he said it, the word came out ‘skuh-getti’. It made Sam laugh a bit, putting a hand on his back and glancing over at Bobby who was standing and watching them with a smile from the doorway.

“Yep. You want some garlic toast with it? I can’t make it by hand but Bobby picked up a great brand from the store.”

Dean nodded enthusiastically and Sam patted his back. “All right. Supper will be ready soon. Why don’t you and Bobby get that movie going?”

“C’mon, kid.” Bobby smiled, holding out his hand to Dean who met him in the doorway and happily took it. Dean could be shy and they never told him to be a ‘big boy’ or get over it. They never even really encouraged anything resembling independence. If he was actually a toddler it would be a different story Sam was sure. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything of the sort when Dean was like this. It was really like his vacation, recovery time, and Sam certainly wasn’t going to remind Dean’s psyche of why it was so fragmented in the first place.

By the time Sam finished with the sauce and was mixing it into the noodles the garlic toast was about ready to be taken out of the oven and Dean was curled up next to Bobby watching Cars. They’d probably follow it up with the sequel Planes after dinner if Dean made it that far. With a full stomach, probably not. Even though Sam knew Dean’s current alter was a three year old he considered trying to give him a bottle before bed just to avoid an upset stomach. He wouldn’t admit it in an adult frame of mind but tomatoes didn’t exactly like Dean’s stomach. It had certainly never stopped him from eating them that’s for sure.

“Okay guys.” Sam called into the other room, taking the adult sized highchair out of the laundry closet that was always kept locked. It held all of Dean’s necessities; everything he needed as a toddler or an infant without having to go upstairs. The biggest of those necessities definitely was the chair. “Suppers ready!”

Bobby carried Dean in and Sam heard the TV being shut off shortly before, pulling the highchair tray out so they could put Dean in.

“Smells amazing, Sam.” Bobby said, Sam guiding Dean’s feet so that they didn’t hit the dinning table as the former hunter set the adult sized toddler into the highchair.

“Thanks, Bobby.” Sam said,

“No problem.”

Sam reached down for Dean’s shirt to take it off. “Okay buddy. Pajamas off until dinner is over.”

While he wouldn’t give up his Batman pajamas for anything, apparently for spaghetti he would. Dean raised his arms immediately, Sam stripping him of his shirt and then taking his pants off as well, leaving him in his diaper and big boy underwear over it. While this personality of Dean’s was mostly potty trained it wasn’t foolproof and even the best toddlers had accidents. For the first few days Sam kept a diaper on him but when toddler Dean was around usually he was diaper free. And on thought, Dean removed the matching Batman briefs Bobby had put over his diaper. Everything was fair game on spaghetti night and even Sam was prepared for a change of shirt at least.

Bobby had already put out plates for them, handing Sam one for Dean - which was of course wouldn’t be a proper plate without Batman all over it. Sam definitely said forget the big and let Dean have at it. While he’d try to feed him some of it, Dean was already prepared to go at the rest with his hands.

“We washed our hands before supper so-” Bobby motioned to Dean as the regressed Winchester gave a devilish grin and promptly pushed both of his hands into the spaghetti and sauce on his plate. “No harm there I suppose.” he chuckled.

“You haven’t said that to my shirt yet.” Sam returned, sliding his chair as close to Dean as he dared while still being in reach to feed him.

“Suffice it to say I think everything at this table has become expendable.” Bobby agreed with a smile, sitting down at the head of the small table and watching fondly as Sam used the traditional airplane method to grab Dean’s attention long enough to put a fork in his mouth.

And Bobby watched as he ate, adding to what conversation they could speak of that didn’t involve the supernatural which wasn’t a whole lot. But they kept everything to do with it far out of reach of Dean. He watched with an almost uncomfortable amount of fondness and love as Sam fed his mentally regressed older brother, nothing but a toddler in that high chair as he happily took bites of spaghetti from Sam’s fork. Bobby occasionally reminded Sam to eat too but the look on Sam’s face as he fed Dean was a hard moment to interrupt.

He was happy. He looked actually, honest to God happy. The smiles he was giving Dean weren’t strained. They were free and easy and when he laughed it was just as free and happy as his smiles. Bobby had thought about children at one time and though he’d never gotten the chance, the boys in front of him were the closest thing he had. It was definitely a paternal feeling of love that he was feeling as he watched. He’d never thought he’d experience any semblance of the apple pie life either and their life was strange enough, as opened up to the supernatural as it was, that the scene in front of him wasn’t really all that strange at all. It was damn near perfect.

Dean too on the other hand was as free and free to be happy as Bobby had seen him since last year. Unfortunately since his last regression. The pain and guilt that followed the man around like a shadow was entirely gone and as much as it used to kill him that his son of a bitch father had abused him enough to give him one of the severest personality disorders, he was also grateful for baby and toddler Dean. After this regression a weight was going to be lifted from the man without him even knowing why. They did seem to help. Probably prevented Dean from having a full scale permanent breakdown on top of that.

It took about a half hour to finish dinner as divided between his plate and Dean’s as Sam was. By the time it was all said and done, quite a bit more had gotten on Dean himself. But he was full, looked as happy as Sam had seen him in a long time and completely content. He’d even gotten through a whole piece of garlic bread.

“Jeeze kid.” Bobby laughed a bit as he stepped around the table to clear the dishes. “You’re a mess.”

Dean almost looked worried he’d done something wrong, as much as he looked proud and as if Bobby had handed him out a big compliment, Sam chuckling and adding Dean’s plate to the rest of them. “All done big guy?”

Dean nodded and immediately held out his arms to Sam.

“Just when I thought my shirt was safe.” Sam breathed with a smile and until now he’d practically escaped the wrath of Dean at dinnertime. There was no getting around it now.

“Grin and bear it, Sam.” Bobby laughed, watching from the sink as Sam didn’t even try to spare the mess, what was the point, and reached out to pick Dean up from the highchair. Spaghetti covered hands immediately found his shoulders, the older Winchester had the sauce clear up past his elbows, some even on his chest and all over his face and neck. Sam made a face but laughed with Bobby.

“Oh Dean. This... This has got to be a hidden skill you have.” Sam laughed, looking over his brother in amazement. Yep he even had some on his legs and he wouldn’t be shocked if that red spot down by his toe was also sauce. “I take it you like my cooking?”

Dean giggled, looking equal parts sleepy and equal parts mischievously pleased. Dean was a good boy. But he really enjoyed food. Really enjoyed food. At least he didn’t throw it or get too carried away and Sam was grateful for that. Dean wasn’t downright mean about it. Seeing him doing something so completely unbridled was nice and Sam was sure, just like everything else involved in his care and life as a toddler, that it was extremely therapeutic and cathartic.

“So.” Bobby looked like he wanted to help but wasn’t exactly sure where, still grinning at the boys. “You need help Sam or?”

“Run some water upstairs?” Sam suggested.

“Sounds about like a good idea.” Bobby agreed, heading for the stairs.

Sam followed after him, Dean by now leaning fully against his shoulder and probably drooling on his shirt. He had a weird habit of chewing on his hands when he was content. Not hard at all, probably gumming them if he’d actually been a toddler or a baby without teeth, but it resulted in a lot of drooling. Sometimes if Dean was tired enough he could convince the toddler to take a pacifier but not often. Right now though he cared little about his shirt and Dean only did it when he was particularly well fed, or pretty tired. Sam suspected that right now it was a bit of both.

Sam rubbed a hand over his back in slow circles as he watched Bobby run the water, talking to Dean softly and occasionally getting a nod from him in turn. He carefully rocked him from where he stood in the doorway but gingerly. Dean had eaten a lot and enthusiastically at that. But a nice warm bath would help it settle.

“Put some lavender in it.” Bobby said as he straightened. “I’ll go get his pajamas and bring’em up. Space heater is already on.”

“Great Bobby thank you.”

“Holler if you need me.” Bobby said, reaching up and affectionately giving Dean’s neck a squeeze and a pat on the way past. “Be good for Sam.”

“Oh he will.” Sam said, and to Dean in a softer murmur. “You’re a good boy for me aren’t you Dean?”

Dean nodded against his shoulder and Bobby gave them both a parting smile before shutting the bathroom door behind him.

Bobby’s house was pretty big and not a lot of it was used. This bathroom was the second one on the second floor, another smaller one downstairs and only a partial bath. Since this one was right next to the nursery they’d painted it in pale blues and whites and decorated it with sailor themed decor. A baby blue shower curtain with white anchors hung from a white wooden rod and there was an insert they could put into the bathtub when Dean was an infant, just like a baby bathtub. The bathroom mats were plush and a matching blue and Sam had done work on the toilet to convert it into something more kid friendly. Two large wooden, painted whales courtesy of Jess were attached to either side each with big smiles and equally happy faces. There were plenty of bath toys and baby friendly soaps under the sink. And the towels were as thick and plush as the floor mats and in matching blue and white. The whole room was soothing and they frequently stocked lavender for bath times, especially when trying to put Dean down for the night.

“Okay kiddo.” Sam said, setting Dean into the water, trusting Bobby to have it set right temperature wise. And it was, perfect actually. Nice and warm but not too hot.

Sam stripped out of his shirt and tossed it in the laundry, grabbing a spare white tank top from a pantry by the sink. He also grabbed a diaper and set it aside and he knew Bobby would be in soon with Dean’s Batman pajamas. In the meantime he focused on Dean. Sometimes he’d get in with him, especially on colder winter nights or after a particularly long day but for now he knelt down on the carpet and used a blue cup set out by Bobby to wet the areas of Dean’s skin weren’t covered by the water. Already the water in question was turning a very light shade of pink from the spaghetti sauce.

“Close your eyes for me, kiddo.” Sam murmured, wetting Dean’s hair too after he complied.

By the time he massaged some soap into his hair and rinsed that Dean was already falling asleep. Sam had to support him with either a hand on his back as he washed the front and then an arm around his chest as he washed everything else. By the time he was done so was Dean, practically asleep sitting up and Sam smiled at him warmly, his heart swelling with love.

It was so unspeakably rare to see his brother so unguarded. Vulnerable. Walls completely down. Dean would never let him care for him as an adult. And if he did it was always with a fight. He had always taken care of Sam, for as long as Sam could remember and he knew before then even. Dean had always been there for him and so it was little to absolutely no effort to do the same now even years later. As much as it occasionally broke his heart to see him like this or as infant Dean it made him feel assured that it was for the best. Dean was being cared for like he never could otherwise. He was free of guilt and pain and the burdens of their life like nothing else would let him.

And through Dean, caring for him like this, experiencing as close to the white picket fence kind of life as he ever had, it seemed like he was too. It was strange where nighttime comforts could come from. But in their lives strange was exactly the brand of everything they seemed to carry. And that was okay too.

END


	3. You're My Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean regresses near the end of a case's conclusion to his youngest, eight month old state, and Sam calls for Castiel with no other help available. The angel doesn't hesitate to take Dean under his not so proverbial wings to protect and care for him for a few hours until Sam can return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This accidentally got really emotional. Oops. Sorry about that (absolutely not sorry actually!). Joe and Ellen make a quick appearance, Sam returns no worse for wear after a few hours despite concluding a case and fighting the monster of the week himself, and Castiel gets time to stretch his brooding, paternal, protective wings to take care of Baby Dean. SOME Destiel very vaguely implied (ah ha the tags become clear). I told you! I really can't help it. This'll happen back and forth and every which way I'm sure as the one shots continue. I vaguely place this one shot somewhere during season four or five.

 

 

More often than not the situation was never ideal when Dean regressed.

Because his regressions and the appearances of his alternate personalities were triggered by extreme stress and emotional fatigue or shock, usually Toddler Dean or Baby D made an appearance ‘out in the field’ or far away from any help from Bobby, his house, or either of Dean’s nursery and supplies. And hiding Dean’s condition from him made carrying supplies on them almost impossible. He knew the car too well and that left Sam forced to carry minimal supplies stashed away in a secret compartment in his laptop bag. And it never afford much.

One diaper, one pacifier, a baby blanket, a single outfit, a bottle with a rubber teat big enough for an adult mouth - just like the pacifier - and of course, the emergency baby Dean kit wouldn't be complete without a CD of _'Rockabye Baby! Lullaby Renditions of AC/DC'_ . Dean's favorite. Sam had several more of the CD collection tucked away in his laptop in a private location. And he couldn’t obsess over how easy Dean could find them if he really applied himself or if the outline of the hard plastic bottle was ever made visible. Because more than anything that would only give him away more.

Luckily however, Dean’s regressions were so few and far between that more often than not he forgot about the emergency supplies tucked safely away. And then he’d come across them later and it wouldn’t stop him from smiling a little, bringing up past memories, and if his ‘little brothers’ would ever make another appearance. He could almost tell when Dean was on the edge of another regression. When he checked out and his alters checked in there was a time afterwards when he was back in his own adult state of mind that he was more relaxed. A subtle tension was gone. Dean often felt like he’d been back from some sort of vacation and he always prodded Sam about it.

Sam just said, just as he’d been saying for awhile, that it was occasionally amnesia caused by a head trauma during a case. That sometimes Dean would lose his short term memory. To explain the gaps which often numbered in the days, weeks, occasionally even months.

The stress relief, the cathartic caring for his brother that was seemingly healing for both of them, always wore off. Soon Dean would look just as tired, the guilt he carried around him like a mantle would creep in, the nightmares would come back and soon all the weight and pressure of the world was back on his shoulders. And that weight would slowly chip away at him, make him crumble, until he effectively couldn’t take it anymore. Something would always shove him over the edge.

And no, it was never in an ideal situation.

But it had never happened in the middle of a case or rather pretty much near the conclusion. It had always been after.

Now Sam was alone, with Baby Dean, and a woman to save before the midnight hour struck.

His only thought, immediately, was to pray for Castiel.

Luckily and to his immediate relief, Cas appeared in a heartbeat, the trench coat attired angel there in the space of a second where there was once only empty air. But there was never a time he’d failed to be there when Dean had regressed before. Often he showed up, if he could, without even being called.

“Sam?” he asked, stepping forward, his eyes immediately finding Dean who was cradled in his brothers arms, held against his chest, for all the world looking to be peacefully sleeping.

“Cas I don’t have much time.” Sam said, rushing straight to an explanation but keeping his voice as calm as he could for Dean, low as well so that he didn’t wake him. It was only a half hour until midnight. “I need you to take Dean. Watch over him for me.”

“Yes of course.” Castiel said, not even hesitating, holding out his hands immediately to take Dean with a strength that was natural born of his angelic grace and not the spells and charms he’d gifted Sam with so that he’d be able to care for his brother as completely as possible.

Sam couldn’t help but feel protective over his big brother. Immensely protective. But with Castiel it was different. He was one of the only souls, besides Bobby, in the entire world he’d entrust his brother’s life and mental well being too. Especially as he was now. And while it wasn’t without a flicker of brotherly and certainly paternal protectiveness that he carefully handed him over now, he did so with the assurance that Cas would take care of him. He’d undertake it like an oath unto God. He’d take care of Dean like he was born to do it. And maybe he was. Sometimes Sam really wondered the depth of the bond his brother had with the angel. His brother who’d always bear the mark of Castiel’s hand on his shoulder from which he’d raised him from perdition.

“Got him?” Sam asked, taking a breath to steady a flicker of anxiety when his brother was out of his arms.

“Yes.” Castiel said immediately and his entire energy had shifted. He held Dean in his arms like it was a divine purpose. Steadfastly protective now, he gazed upon the human in his arms intently, Dean now his sole focus and his safety his biggest concern.

“I’ll be back soon.” Sam said. “Just watch over him. We have a motel room across town. Route Eighty-Eight. Room fourteen. I have some supplies in my laptop bag and there’s some milk the fridge. You remember how to warm it up?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, turning cerulean depths to him at last.

“Good. Just not too much. It’ll upset his stomach.” Sam gave the angel a smile, letting out a breath, and briefly touched his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I just have to finish up a case.”

“Call for me if you need assistance.”

“I’ll be fine. But thank you.” Sam smiled, heart warming under the sentiment. He knew it was true and that there wasn’t much of anything Castiel wouldn’t do for them and hadn’t already.

Sam turned away to the Impala, sparing his brother one last glance where he was cradled in Castiel’s arms, blissfully unaware of the situation and looking as peaceful as Sam had seen him in nearly half a year. It was going to be hell explaining to Dean where he’d went this time. But for now, Sam was assured that he was wholly and completely safe, watched over by his own personal guardian angel.

And when he got into the car, turning the Impala over as the nearly half a century old engine roared to life, one look up over the steering wheel and in that brief instant - Castiel and Dean had vanished.

 

Castiel found the room easily. Within the space of a second and the barest amounts of concentration he found himself standing in Sam and Dean’s room, the eldest Winchester sleeping still pretty peacefully in his arms. Entirely unaware. It brought a small smile to his face, although somewhat of a saddened one. The man pushed himself entirely too hard. And because of the result of his life, the way he’d been nurtured as a child or rather the complete lack of, he was shattered into pieces. The most vulnerable piece currently now, sleeping in his arms.

He had never seen the oldest Winchester look more at peace than in these very moments.

It made him feel unreasonably protective of the man, enough to question himself as a soldier of the Lord certainly. He wasn’t supposed to feel so much. But how could he possibly not when he had Dean Winchester in his care, as vulnerable and defenseless as a newborn infant? The simple answer was that he couldn’t. And unlike many of his brethren, Castiel felt more assured in his purpose as a celestial being now than what was supposedly ‘right’ and being entirely unattached.

Carefully, with all the care he’d give to a human infant, Castiel shifted Dean further into his embrace - making sure to support his head in the crook of his elbow, lifting him up closer against his chest. There was a chill to the room and he would like to get him more settled, possibly in his baby blanket if he could free his arms and hands. But even as careful as he was, the regressed man still stirred, Cas murmuring soothing, low words of nonsense to try and quiet him.

It seemed to work, but Dean had sleepily reached up and found his trench coat, grasping onto it with a quiet strength that told Castiel that he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

It made the angel smile. “I won’t let go of you, Dean.” he promised him, finding the bag Sam had mentioned with his eyes. Or at least he surmised it was the laptop bag. It was the only thing matching the description in the corner of the room, next to the chair Sam had obviously vacated in a hurry. His laptop was still on, the screen dark but the keyboard still softly glowing in a shade of blue the angel found appealing.

A knock on the door though immediately brought his head up, suspicious and ready for a confrontation. Of any sort.

“Boys?” the voice on the other said said. “It’s me Ellen. Let me in, I’m worried about that thing you’re going after tonight. I think we should talk about it.”

And then another younger voice, just as muffled from the other side of the door but clear to Castiel. “Mom the car is gone.”

“Shit.” Ellen said, but Castiel was already moving for the door. “They can probably handle it-”

He was concerned they didn’t know about Dean. And they probably didn’t. He knew there was a big risk opening the door and allowing them to see the man like this but he knew Ellen and Joe were of the very few Sam and Dean placed complete confidence in. And if something was wrong and Sam needed to be alerted he couldn’t take the risk of letting them pass by under the belief that they were gone or on the hunt.

When the door opened, Ellen stopped mid-sentence, looking both shocked to see him for a moment - as was to be expected - and then alarmed by the sight of Dean.

“Good Lord what happened!” she demanded, Castiel moving aside to let them in.

“Lower your voices.” he said, shifting Dean as the other human in his arms stirred and made a sound of protest. “And please shut the door.”

Jo did so, sharing a glance with her mother. “What’s wrong with, Dean?” she asked.

“Oh no.” Ellen said, recognition suddenly dawning on her. “Is he regressed? What happened out there tonight? Where’s Sam?”

“He left Dean in my care while he pursued whatever they were hunting. And yes he’s regressed. To that of an infant.”

Jo moved for the door but Ellen quickly caught her arm. “Jo you’re not going after him. If anyone is, I am.”

“I told Sam to call for me if he needed my assistance.” Castiel assured her, glancing between the two but relieved they knew already about Dean. “But he seemed confident that he didn’t.”

Ellen let go of her daughter, the younger woman giving her mother a bit of a glare. But the older woman didn’t pay much attention, her eyes on Castiel, giving him a somewhat cautious glance over. “So you must be Castiel.”

“What gave it away?” Jo asked a bit quietly, also looking just as cautious. “The trench coat?”

“Oh that and the fact that Sam wouldn’t leave his brother with just anyone.” Ellen gave her daughter a somewhat apologetic glance and took in a breath. “Sam’s fine. If it were Dean that had told Castiel what he had well I’d be running out the door with you. But I know Sam will actually call for help if he needs it. And I think Castiel is pretty overqualified for our line of work.”

“Much of it yes.” Castiel said.

“Not modest are you.” Ellen asked.

Not quite understanding the meaning behind her question, or what she said, but sensing sarcasm - Castiel gave them both an unsure glance. “I need to care for, Dean.”

“You look about as lost on that front as I can imagine you would be.” Ellen looked around her, her eyes finding Sam’s laptop bag on the floor and quickly heading for it. “He says he keeps emergency supplies in here. Jo you should probably head back to our room.”

“Why mom?” Jo asked, stepping closer, although looking still quite wary of Castiel.

The angel himself watched her just as close, curious more than anything as she stepped near them and reached up, putting a hand on Dean’s arm as gently as if she were touching the most fragile of things. Jo seemed just as curious as Castiel was to her reactions. “I’ve never seen him like this.” she murmured.

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t be here. Nothing to see. And he wouldn’t want you to see him like this either.”

Castiel almost suddenly wanted to defend Dean. It wasn’t that his condition was a matter of shame and something to be hidden. He understood that humans did this sometimes. That they felt shame and embarrassment in injury, emotional difficulty, and didn’t want anyone to bear witness to it. But he’d never be able to grasp why.

Dean stirred again and this time, surprisingly, it was Jo that acted - her eyes briefly meeting Castiel’s as she soothingly shushed the hunter in his arms. Castiel carefully and ever so slightly bounced Dean in his embrace, having seen Sam do this before and with Jo’s soothing voice and his own silent urging, Dean immediately quieted, the grasp on his trench coat reflexively tightening and then relaxing in a loose grip.

“He really is a baby like this?” Jo asked softly and although Castiel couldn’t explain the psychology, he knew the basics.

“Yes. Due to trauma inflicted upon him as a child. Although it is temporary.”

“God rest him now John Winchester could be a hard son of a bitch.” Ellen said, glancing over at them. “Jo go on now.”

“Mom.” Jo protested and they shared a look that Castiel couldn’t see from Ellen’s perspective. But it must have been enough because the younger woman’s mother relented with a somewhat dissatisfied sigh, holding out to her one of Dean’s baby bottles.

“Here. Take this then. See if there’s some milk in the fridge. Sam usually has some. Fill it up and put it in the microwave for thirty seconds.”

Seemingly happy to help or to have a reason to stay, Jo crossed the room and took the pale blue plastic bottle from her mother, Ellen stepping over to Castiel - her expression softening with a smile, reaching out to stroke a hand over Dean’s head. It was maternal. Such a maternal gesture that Castiel didn’t even feel a flicker of protectiveness. Instead he reached up for Dean’s hand, the eldest Winchester stirring sleepily and taking a hold of two of his fingers automatically. Reaching out for comfort given by Castiel, automatically accepting.

“Do you know how it happened?” she asked Castiel.

“No.” the angel said, shaking his head, smoothing a thumb back and forth over Dean’s hand - which had a firm grasp of his two fingers.

“Well let’s get him undressed and into something more comfortable. I’ll show you how but don’t worry I’ll help you out as much as I can.” Again that wary glance. “You’re stronger than I am and he’s a big man.”

“So Dean’s not Dean right now or what?” Jo asked, bringing back a full bottle of milk.

“Dump half that down the sink, honey.” Jo said, “You don’t want him to drown himself.”

Castiel gently lowered Dean to the bed, supporting his head, the man completely limp in his arms. But he didn’t apparently like being moved, raising hands to his eyes to rub at them sleepily, frowning in protest.

“Shhh. Easy, sugar.” Elle soothed, reaching out to rub his stomach. “You’re okay now.”

She laid out an adult sized infant onsie on the bed that had longer sleeves, pale blue in color, and a pair of blue leg socks. Followed by a diaper and a matching pacifier. “Okay let’s...” Ellen gave Dean a smile as his eyes found hers. “Let’s get this kid out of his clothes. Yes. Let’s get you out of your clothes.”

Between the two of them dressing Dean wasn’t all that difficult. But by the time they were done the effort was well rewarded by how much more relaxed and comfortable the oldest Winchester seemed. Castiel himself was relieved Dean had a diaper on but this one wouldn’t last long he knew, especially after a warm bottle of milk. Ellen seemed to have much of the same thoughts. “I’ll pick him up some more. Unless Sam comes back first.”

Castiel moved Dean back into his arms, gathering him close, ever so carefully. While he couldn’t help but be a little nervous around Dean when he was like this, mostly he was filled with an overwhelming sense of purpose and duty to care for the Winchester. To protect him and to see to his needs. At this state of mental regression, it was the only time Dean would really truly let him. Somehow he considered that an infinitely precious thing. All the more so because it was entirely out of Dean’s control or say so.

“Here.” he heard Jo say softly and Castiel looked up, taking the proffered bottle from her.

“Thank you.” he said.

Dean was well and awake now, absentmindedly and ever so slightly kicking his feet and legs, active now and watching everyone with wide, vulnerable eyes. Castiel himself found the motions of his legs easy to control. With his much stronger strength they didn’t even bother him in the slightest. While Dean was a tall man, and a fully grown man at that, an infant doing the same wouldn’t have even made the slightest of difference. But with someone without his strength it probably wouldn’t have been easy to manage. As such, he was just happy that Dean appeared relaxed and content.

“Are you hungry, Dean?” Castiel asked softly, although of course not expecting a response. Surprisingly though he got one. Dean reached out with his hands and opened and closed them with happy and more excited kicking motions of his feet. It made Cas chuckle, happily giving him the bottle, watching him take the rubber teat into his mouth and start suckling. And around the bottle, Dean gave Ellen a curious look.

“Hey little prince.” she smiled, whispering the words with a big smile. “Look at you. That’s good stuff isn’t it?”

Dean seemed to think so. At least for a minute. No more than a fourth of the bottle gone and he either seemed bored with it or unhappy with it, pushing the teat out of his mouth, Castiel tipping the bottle up quickly so that it didn’t drip. “Full already Dean? You barely touched it.”

A growl from his stomach told them no and Dean himself seemed painfully frustrated, making an unhappy noise.

“Come on, Dean.” Castiel coaxed, bringing the rubber teat back to his mouth. “I know you’re hungry.”

Dean refused, turning his head away and into Castiel’s coat, the angel sighing and withdrawing the bottle. He gave Ellen a somewhat hopeless look.

“Put him up against your shoulder. You ever burped him before? Maybe he needs that already.”

Castiel gently eased Dean up onto his shoulder after handing the bottle to Ellen but they were interrupted by the sound of a key card being slid through the lock above the door and then the door opening. Sam stepped through, looking a bit covered in dust but otherwise all right, giving Ellen and Jo a surprised look. “Hey guys. Everything okay?”

“Was going to ask you the same thing.” Ellen said, standing to greet him. “Did you get the...” she gave a glance over at Dean. “Everything go okay?”

“Yeah. No problems. Karen is safe. How’s Dean?”

“Fussy.” Ellen said, “He sounds pretty hungry but he won’t take the bottle.”

Sam held up a hand in a ‘wait a minute’ gesture and left and returned with a few shopping bags. “Sometimes he needs more convincing than just milk. A packet of Carnation Instant Breakfast usually does the trick. Dean’s usually running low on more than a few vitamins and minerals too by the time he regresses so he needs it. I’ll make him up another bottle.”

“Jo?” Ellen said, “I think we should give them some space. I want to head out tonight. I’m starting to hate this town.”

Sam smiled as he set out a container of yogurt and apple juice on the table beside his laptop. “I don’t blame you. You guys drive safe okay? I’ll be heading out to Bobby’s first thing in the morning. I’d give you a hug but...”

“Eh what the hell.” Ellen smiled, “While your older brother isn’t around to crack a joke about it.”

Sam smiled, giving her a warm hug, turning a smile at Jo. “Don’t give your mom too hard of a time. You really don’t want this life.”

Jo was young now but give her some time and Sam was already recognizing ‘the family business’ in her. He really sometimes wondered if it was genetic.

Typical teenager that she was, Jo just rolled her eyes, but did give Dean a more serious look. As if she was actually considering Sam’s words. And Sam figured that was a great thing because Dean was a great example of how their life could easily go so wrong. Breakdowns could happen to the strongest of hunters. No one was immune and no one was immortal. The life got to everyone in some way or another. Eventually.

Sam saw them out and looked back to Cas, who wasn’t having much issue with Dean. While his older brother was getting fussier by the minute, the angel seemed to have his full attention.

“Here.” Sam said, crossing the room and handing Castiel the stuffed tiger he’d picked up at the store, smiling down at Dean. “This may distract him a little. Hang on little man. I got a bottle I’m fixing up.”

A small amount of yogurt, a bit of cinnamon, low fat milk, apple juice, the packet of instant breakfast, and thirty more seconds in the microwave followed by a good, vigorous shake of the bottle and Sam had something for Dean far more healthy than the man would have ever eaten in his adult state of mind. Honestly, sometimes Sam wished the regressions would happen a bit more often. Because it was the only way he could catch Dean up on the things he lacked. And he did end up with nutritional and vitamin deficiencies. A blood test from his first alternate personality appearance had made that shockingly clear.

“Here you go, Cas.” Sam said softly, holding out the bottle to the angel. “That’s almost full. See if you can get most of that down him. I haven’t seen Dean eat since this afternoon and it was a couple hamburgers and some fries from a drive through. So-” he gave a fond sigh. “This is going to do him a world of good.”

“Here you go, Dean.” Castiel murmured, tipping the bottle down carefully. And while Dean looked suspicious at first, giving the teat a sideways look, it didn’t too much convincing.

“Go ahead little man.” Sam said, voice gently coaxing and hushed. “That’s your favorite.”

As soon as it was in his mouth, Dean went to town on it, Sam breathing a smile and Cas himself smiling affectionately at the man in his arms. The younger Winchester reached out to tip Cas’ arm up just a bit higher and then relaxed, dropping his hand away.

“Perfect.” he said quietly and he couldn’t help it if his smile was equal parts loving and amazed. He wasn’t sure why. Something about Dean like this was infinitely special to him. Rare. A time of healing for Dean that he desperately needed. It was a piece of his brother that he’d never seen before. And while Dean had bottle fed him years ago, read to him at night, parented him the best any child could for someone so young - Sam had never had the opportunity to do the same for Dean. And sometimes he wished Dean could know. Could remember. Could feel it. Because he knew it gave him a sense of stability with his older brother that was a bond deeper than anything. A level of unparalleled trust.

Dean didn’t share the same with him and it was painful and frustrating to Sam. Dean would only let him care for him so far. And then the walls came up and he promptly shut down. Sam didn’t know how many times he’d run into those walls, trying to get through.

“That’s a good boy Dean.” Cas murmured softly, breaking Sam from his thoughts, realizing he’d been standing there just watching. Forgetting that he needed a shower and probably some food himself. Forgetting just a moment everything entirely but what was happening in front of him.

Sam smiled a bit more from where it had faded, looking down at his brother’s hand grasped onto his. His hand was getting bigger than Dean’s and he’d never thought he’d see the day. How many times had he looked down to see his small hand held safely in Dean’s much bigger one. How many times had Dean told him that ‘it was all right Sammy’ and that he was here for him, that he’d never let anything happen to him while he was around.

Suddenly, Sam felt overwhelmed, tears coming to his eyes although he hastily tried to blink them back. He wasn’t sure he entirely succeeded, emotions welled up tight in his chest and making his throat constrict. “It’s all right, D. I’m here and I’m never going to let anything happen to you while I’m around.”

 

~FIN~


	4. All These Broken Pieces I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a breakthrough with his personality disorder but it's tenuous at best. Cas and Sam find out that together they can make the best of parents, if only Dean would let them in enough to try (and that it's okay to need each other). During the brief struggle to get Dean to a point where they can show him it's okay to heal, experience what he's long since been told was wrong - Sam remembers the cold overcast day Dean found out he had multiple personality disorder in the first place. And together, in the present, him and Castiel help Dean take his first steps towards recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be two parts. Just to apologize more than anything the lack of updates on it recently. These are all one shots and this one will be too but it'll be separated into two parts. It went on longer than I thought it would and I don't mind really! There was more here to write than I originally intended. Second part should be up tomorrow. Will feature a lot of hurt comfort, adult baby stuff, Cas and Sam being awesome parents and Dean getting some adult baby healing for a change when he's not regressed. That'll be a new one for me! As always comments and kudos are loved and adored. They really are what keeps writers writing and going. At least this one!
> 
> Brief tags for this big two parter - we have a sick Dean, a paternal angel living on borrowed grace, some denied feelings between said angel and Sam, some lightly implied Destiel, and a Dean Winchester who with the help of both Cas and Sam starts to realize its okay to feel 'little' sometimes. During the flashback in this, be forewarned, Dean swears a lot. The angsty little emotionally repressed muffin as we all know hates admitting to having feelings.

 

 

Sam let out a soft breath and eyed his brother from across the car from where he was sitting in the passenger seat.

They'd been driving for hours now and Dean wasn't showing any signs of letting him take over. He was running on fast food, little sleep, and sheer stubbornness. Typical to Dean in every possible way and then some. But it seemed like more than that.

He'd been dodging questions of concern, also typical, and Sam couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. They hadn't had a lot of tough cases lately but the most recent one had been brutal. He suspected Dean might be coming down with something too, seemingly on the edge of a respiratory infection, and it only made him more fatigued and irritable on top of everything else. Dean _hated_ to be sick. And against all logic and reasoning, that’s when he pushed himself the hardest.

Disapprovingly Sam knew his older brother’s usual crutches of alcohol and an unhealthy amount of emotional distancing was not helping matters either.

But Dean typically wouldn't open up and Sam was growing increasingly more concerned. He wanted to remind Dean that if he didn't relax, let him in, that his multiple personality disorder might make the choice for him and give him an extended vacation whether he wanted one or not. But, as much as he'd never wish that on his brother, Sam was concerned it might be the only way to get him to take one. And Dean didn’t like to talk about his disorder. Even though that was exactly what he should be doing about it.

And then Dean did something that completely surprised him.

Sitting just outside a diner, alone in the parking lot in the early morning hours, Dean almost seemed to be on the edge of needing to say something, warring with it in his own head. So when Sam brought their order out he approached the Impala quietly. Waiting, hoping that Dean might just break character enough to let Sam in. What he didn't expect was for it to actually happen.

"Sam?" Dean asked, no interest apparently in the food in his brother's hands, eyes fixed onto the steadily rising sun over an expansive cornfield.

"Yeah Dean?" Sam stood beside him, trying not to hold his breath. His tone was less gentle than he'd like and more causal but he kept it open. Not wanting to scare Dean off with the threat of emotional intimacy. It would be funny if it wasn't so true.

Dean struggled for a moment and the few words he said next made Sam throw all his previous concerns about reaching out too much right out the window.

"Sammy I..."

Sam put the food down on the hood of the car, sitting against the hood carefully near him. "Yeah Dean what is it?" he asked, gentling his tone now considerably.

"I feel..." Dean let out a frustrated breath, "Remember what that shrink said? That I might... start to feel things about..." Dean wouldn't say it, not in public, but Sam was floored he was even talking about it at all. "You know... now that I know?"

Sam nodded, "It's completely normal. You know now that you're aware of your other personalities. They're aware of you too now I think."

Dean let out a bit of an uneasy laugh, "I must be a total douche hat to them."

"Fortunately? I don't think either of them are old enough to understand what that means." Sam smiled but it faded into more of a concerned expression, regarding what Dean had said earlier. It was hard not to reach out and physically reassure him. As much as Dean might appear open to it, he didn't want to spook him or give him an excuse to run. This was the first Dean was talking about his condition since he'd become aware of it. Actually speaking of candidly. It was a shock but a healthy shock. Dean needed this whether he knew it or not.

"What are you feeling Dean?" Sam gently pressed. It was a complicated, sensitive process getting his brother to open up. One false move and Dean would close up, shut down, and declare 'no chick flick moments' or hide behind bad humor. Fast enough to make Sam's head spin.

"I feel..." Dean let out a harsh breath, looking down at his hands and suddenly everything clicked for Sam. Enough for him to almost take in a shocked breath. And he did. Quietly.

"Little?" Sam asked, gently, calmly.

The cases had been hard not lately but months ago it had been relentless and Sam had held his breath through every one. Dean hadn't been allowing himself a minutes break and running himself into the ground on top of it all. And a couple weeks ago during a case, the particularly hard one, Sam had witnessed Dean pick up a small teddy bear, small enough to fit in one hand, and the smile he'd given it - wistful and almost sad - had sent Sam into a whirlwind of concern for his older brother. He'd ached in that moment to reassure those other sides of Dean and Dean himself that it was okay, that they were okay, and to take care of him - ease some of the burden Dean was putting on himself. And those fragile other parts.

But Dean had pushed him away, especially when he realized he'd been caught, and with a lot of anger too. The obvious shame and guilt had been much worse, killing Sam to see it, desperate to relieve those feelings. And he'd tried, and they'd argued, and in the end nothing had been resolved. But maybe something had.

Dean sent an almost scared look his way, fighting for words for a second. "Yeah I... I don't feel like an adult right now Sammy. And it's scaring the hell out of me."

Sam, unable not to physically reach out now, eased down off the hood of the Impala - with his height his feet were already there and he gently put a hand on Dean’s arms. “Dean? It’s okay to be scared but believe it or not this is a good thing. You remember what the doctor said? Sooner or later, if you let it, all these pieces of yourself will go back to where they belong. But you have to let yourself heal first. And this is a huge step.”

“Sammy I-”

Dean looked so lost that Sam took a risk, inwardly braced himself, and hoped taking control was the right move. “Shh. Dean. It’s okay.” he tried to give him his best reassuring smile, squeezing his arms gently but kept his tone paternally firm with what he said next. If the lines were blurring for Dean, he supposed he had to blur some lines of his own. Being Dean’s brother was going to have to mean a multitude of things. His behavior around him would have to be less fragmented too. “I don’t think you should drive right now, with the way you feel. Do you feel that way too?”

Sam caught a predictable expression flicker across his brother’s face and briefly, Sam cupped Dean's chin in a large hand and tipped his head up to meet his eyes. He took his hand away immediately once their eyes met, not wanting to spook Dean - they were out in public. But it had done the trick. “Hey. No guilt. No shame here. Just honesty. Okay?”

Dean took in a shaky breath and agreed with a nod of his head. “No driving.”

“Okay.” Sam said softly. “Good. We’re going to find a nice place to relax, just you and me and maybe Cas. You’re not going to worry about anything for awhile. Come on-” he gently urged him off the car with his hands. “Let’s get you into the car. It’s a little cold out here.”

Dean went without a fuss. Which in and of itself was telling but predictably it only went so far. Sam reached out to feel his forehead with his hands, he’d suspected his stubborn older brother had been hiding a fever for awhile, but Dean just weakly fended them off with an irritated glance. “’Mm fine, Sammy.” he said, pushing his hands away.

Sam sighed and gave him a gentle ‘are you kidding me?’ look.

“Not the Sam face.” Dean groaned, turning his head away from him.

“Dean. Hey-” Sam softened his tone and took his brother’s wrists in his hands, gently pulling him around so that Dean was facing him more - taking many more liberties than he usually would.

Dean went with urging, that’s all it really was, he wouldn’t have forced Dean in these circumstances and he wasn’t sure that was the best way to go about it. Not with how their father had treated them growing up. _Easy way or the hard way_ , he’d always said. _Either way you’re going to do it_. Sam pushed those memories aside. He’d never treated Dean like that, at any regressed age his personalities were. Cajoled, sternly and diplomatically prodded, coaxed, and paternally persuaded like any parent should but not with ultimatums enforced by violence.

“Let me check to see if you have a fever. Okay? I’m worried about you.”

“Sammy I’m fine-”

He was anything _but_ fine. Obviously.

Sam let out a sigh, his brother was gradually getting more upset and more shut down. And as he was struggling to think of a way to get through, worried he might regress after all and this chance for healing and progress with Dean’s condition would go right out the window - he heard a familiar and very welcome sound of the fluttering of wings.

“Sam? Dean?”

Sam turned to see the angel approach from the left and as much as he was happy to see him, his eyes immediately cast about the empty parking lot. They’d been the only customer in the diner and anyone seeing them was slim to none but Castiel appearing out of nowhere had made him check without thinking. Not that he could explain his sudden appearance anyway.

“No one saw me.” the angel immediately assured him and Sam relaxed with a somewhat apologetic smile.

“It’s been a rough few days.”

Castiel nodded understandingly. He’d been around for some of it. They’d both been eyeing Dean for the past few particularly rough cases much to the ire of the man in question.

“Dean?” Castiel asked the older Winchester questioningly, with a knowing look in his eyes. His tone was practically paternal. Sam wondered if he was catching up on something that anyone else would need a question or two to find out on their own. Like the fact that Dean didn’t exactly feel like an adult right now. Fitting, because he wasn’t exactly acting like one. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine-” Dean said, fidgeting a bit under his tone, but Sam cut him off with a sigh.

“Cas he feels...” Sam tried to think of a way to explain it to the angel in a way he’d immediately understand, couldn’t find an explanation right away, and settled with the word Dean had used earlier. “Little.” he gave a sigh. “And I’m pretty sure he has a fever.”

Thankfully the angel seemed to understand and took a few steps closer, his eyes staying on Dean with a steady but gentle gaze, the usual intensity behind it tempered. “Dean.” he said again, “Let Sam take a look at you.”

Dean sighed and turned a resigned look at Sam but he didn't look altogether happy about it.

“Thank you.” Sam said to Dean, relaxing and reaching out to feel his brother’s forehead with a hand. And he frowned immediately as soon as it made contact. “Yeah Cas I’m betting he has a fever.” he murmured. Dean’s skin was warm to the touch, feverish. Not terrible but noticeable. If they did something now it probably wouldn’t get any worse. Or this could just be the start of something.

Castiel sat back on his heels beside the car, reaching out with a hand as well, feeling Dean’s face and forehead with the back of his fingers. “Yeah.” he agreed. “He does.”

“Dean?” Sam asked gently, reaching out and putting a hand on his knee. “The plan still stands. We’re going to find a place to relax until you don’t feel little anymore. Okay? Do you trust me? I think there’s some things we can do that might help.”

“There is?” Dean asked and he looked exhausted. Drained. But there was hope in his eyes beneath the wariness, the skepticism. He looked a little lost.

“Yeah.” Sam said, exchanging a look with Cas. But it wasn’t contact he could hold long. There was feelings there he still didn’t know how to process and he and the angel had been dancing around it for some time. But he just didn’t know how to proceed now. The world wasn’t ending but Dean still had the Mark and Cas was living off of borrowed Grace. He wasn’t exactly sure what direction there could possibly be for them. They’d never had the time to find out. And more than anything, right now he had to take care of Dean. And Castiel seemed to have the same thought.

But his eyes were hesitant when they found his and they almost immediately shied away. “I’d... like to help. To come with you.”

“Oh would you two just get a room already?” Dean groaned, shifting in the seat and turning away from them, curling in on himself a bit. “I’m hot. And I’m hungry.”

Sam’s lips twitched up in a smile despite the embarrassment. At least Dean was asking. For Dean that was practically a miracle. “Okay. Let’s get you more comfortable.” he turned that smile over to Castiel and despite Dean’s statement he managed the look to be a steady one. “Of course you can come Cas. I’d like that. I’m sure Dean would too.”

The Winchester in question just grumbled noncommittally and this time, the smile on Sam’s face was mutually shared by the angel beside him.

As reluctant as Sam was to let Dean have diner food under the circumstances, well under any circumstances, it was going to be a while before they were settled. And while he was determined to make it as quick as possible he wasn’t going to let Dean go without until then, especially the way he felt. He was looking increasingly lost and gradually becoming more quiet and Sam was worried he was going to regress before they even got the chance to try to ‘treat’ his disorder while he was in an adult frame of mind. It could make all the difference in the world if they did. So he decided on settling Dean in the backseat with Castiel where the angel could hold him and keep a better eye on the Winchester while Sam looked for quick options for them to stay for awhile until his brother Dean felt much more like himself.

“Won’t this make it happen? You know the regressing or whatever the hell happens?” Dean asked, sitting beside Castiel in the back of the Impala and he genuinely looked worried over the possibility. And while Sam was too, he did his best to reassure him.

“We don’t know.” he said gently, glancing up at Castiel and putting a hand on his brother’s arm. “But actually it should do the opposite. Dean if you let these feelings in now, and experience and accept them, and you let us help you do that? You should get better. Not regress or get worse. Okay?”

Dean nodded quietly, sending a questioning glance in Cas’ direction. It was wary, if nothing else. But there was a lot of that going on and Sam felt like he was entitled. This was treading waters that were dark and though he’d never admit it, scary to Dean. Sam was sure he’d feel the same in his brother’s position. Having an angel, another consciousness inhabiting his body for awhile without his say or control, had evoked similar feelings when he’d found out about it. And while he didn’t like to draw comparisons, he’d kept Dean’s disorder from him for the best reasons. Because Dean to say the least had taken it badly when he’d found out. Just as Sam suspected that he would.

 

_Two Years, Seven Months Past_

It had been several weeks this time. With all that was going on and the new crisis they’d been facing recently Sam wasn’t shocked. But it had saddened him in a lot of ways. Dean had been a wreck before it had happened so that wasn’t a shock either. But to push Dean into an infantile state and to bring that alternate personality to the surface had to take a monumental breaking of Dean’s psyche.

Explaining to him this gap of time hadn’t exactly been easy. Because it had been months until Dean had come back around. Sam had been waiting for the day when Dean called bullshit on all of it, all of the excuses and the usual crafted lie - though he loathed the day it happened, telling himself he’d never be ready.

And today... today he certainly was not ready. His hallucinations were still happening though he’d kept them from Bobby. He was tired and, the Leviathans were out in force, and Castiel was still missing... It was a big mess. Everything right now was a big mess and Dean knew it. And no amount of explanations this time were working. It had just been too long this time.

“You can’t tell me that some brain injury years ago can cause all these black outs!” Dean yelled at him from across the motel room. “My leg is _healed_ Sam. Out of the cast! How long was I out of it? Months? At least!”

“Four.” Sam relented quietly.

“Something isn’t adding up Sam. This has happened too many times. What do I even do when all this happens? I’m some catatonic vegetable?”

“Yes!” Sam said, exasperated, willing Dean to just believe it. He just wasn’t ready for Dean to find out. And it felt like his brother was _far_ from ready to hear the truth. “Dean we’ve gone over this! Several times!”

Dean stared quietly at him for long moments, anger and disbelief simmering in his hazel green eyes but Sam could barely contain his sigh of relief when Dean finally relented and averted his gaze. “Whatever. Okay.” he said, shifting his eyes away and running a hand through his hair, sighing roughly. “All right. Well that explains why I’m ten pounds overweight. Jesus.”

Sam willed himself to relax. It was over. Everything was fine. Dean didn’t know. They’d gotten through this and everything was fine... That was such an outright lie even he didn’t believe it but willed himself too. For both of their sanity but especially his.

“Actually I bet you’re at the weight you should be now.”

Dean gave him a strange glance. “I eat plenty thank you. Probably more than I should.”

“Yeah.” Sam said, letting out a quiet breath, reaching out to finish packing his bag before they hit the road again. He was just so tired. A few hours of sleep, that was all he needed. “Crap is what you eat. When you let yourself eat.”

“So... What?” Dean asked, casting him that strange glance again. “I just... Sit there or?”

“Pretty much.” Sam said. He didn’t really want to talk about it. He didn’t like lying to Dean. And he didn’t like to expand on those lies either.

“So what the hell were you feeding me then?” Dean asked defensively. It was a weak attempt at levity but he was trying and it made Sam smile a bit, wanting to reassure him at least. He knew a thousand and one things probably running through his older brother’s head all too well right now. The guilt, the shame, the thought that Sam had to see him like that. Take care of him. That he had to be so vulnerable. It was like he’d let Sam down, he wasn’t his big brother and on top of all Sam's hallucinations and how Dean had had to talk him down through that worst bout of it... well Sam didn’t feel bad for reassuring him a little at least.

“Wait.” Dean said, reaching out for Sam’s laptop bag before Sam could. “I don’t even want to know the healthy crap you might have been putting into my body-”

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. And so he missed, entirely, when Dean grabbed the bag from the wrong end and that annoying, broken zipper he’d been keeping together with electrical tape finally said ‘I give up’ and broke entirely. Scattering all the contents in it onto the floor at Dean’s feet. Everything. Even what had been in the hidden compartment. Something else he hadn’t gotten around to fixing lately either.

He heard the noise as everything hit the floor. He heard everything fall out of the bag. And maybe he was just too tired but it didn’t register right away what that could mean. What might have happened and what Dean had just seen. Until he heard Dean’s confused, quiet ‘what the hell’ as he reached down to pick some of it up - cut off from the apology he was about to give.

Sam for a minute just stared at the pacifier in his hands, Dean’s blue one, his favorite. The one with the black Impala on the front. It wasn’t exactly real to him what was happening. Maybe he’d get lucky and this was all just another hallucination.

“What the hell?” Dean asked again, turning shocked eyes up at Sam.

“Dean I can explain.” he tried, panic welling up in his throat and making his chest tight, raising his hands to placate his brother. And wasn’t that the first thing one always said when caught with something they'd been hiding? 'I can explain'? Dean wasn’t apparently buying it. Who did?

“Sam what the hell is this? It’s...” he turned it over and pulled his head back in shock. “Yeah okay that’s way too big for a baby. Sam is there something you aren’t telling me?”

His big brother tone. All right. This was good. Sam hated to think that he could use this but maybe he could. Hastily, he reached out and took the pacifier from him - trying to force a nonchalant shrug. “So what, you caught me. It’s no big deal Dean, just drop it.”

He’d take the blame he decided. He’d just cover and say it was him. While it wasn’t exactly ‘blame’ Sam just knew without a shadow of a doubt that Dean couldn’t handle the fact that he had two other personalities running around in his head without his say or control. Who could? It was one thing to say, 'I’m sorry you have bipolar disorder'. Or something of the like. But split personalities? To say Dean wouldn’t handle that well would be a massive understatement.

Dean for a minute didn’t even have words, watching as Sam put everything back in the bag. Everything. The bottle, the research papers he’d been working on lately for the past case, the scribbled notes on Leviathans, the adult sized onsie with a matching Impala on the front, blue like the pacifier... everything. And Sam was just trying to reassure himself that it was over. He could throw off Dean and he wouldn’t have to worry about it until... until Dean lost more time, or enough time like this last incident to make him realize something was off again.

“It’s just this thing okay? It has a perfectly logical, psychological reason behind it-” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. In the slightest. “And I don’t expect you to understand. Just leave it alone.”

“Okay...” Dean said, staring at him like he wasn’t even sure who he was looking at anymore. Like Sam was a stranger. Or that he’d grown five heads, three boobs, and had turned green. Probably a lot of all those. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Sam shrugged him off and a guilty feeling was settling in his gut. Worse, he felt like now he had to own up to something that he didn’t even have anything to do with. He wasn’t remotely into the adult baby lifestyle. Not so much as receiving it. He’d admit that a part of him did enjoy taking care of Dean when he was regressed and he hadn’t looked so hard into it after that realization. Mostly out of his own feelings of guilt that he actually enjoyed it. But beyond that, it wasn’t a strain to care for his brother. It wasn’t asking anything at all. It was effortless. And did it bother him? It used too.

But he’d met a lot of supportive people over the years and him and Cas had basically become parents to Dean’s alternate personalities. That was fine.

But this... this, he couldn’t shake the feeling, was not good. Dean had raised him practically after everything, the fire, his dad taking them away. Their mother's death. The last thing he needed Dean to feel like was that he had to provide something for Sam similar or that Sam felt like he was going without something. The whole basis of the adult baby lifestyle. He was just hoping he wouldn’t take it in that direction, the only direction he could. Dean liked to play dumb but he wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

“And fix that bag. I don’t know how you can trust anything in it - let alone a laptop.”

“Yeah, yeah I will.” Sam said offhandedly.

There was a heavy pause in the room and Sam inwardly cringed. Dean was going to say something and he wasn’t wrong.

“Sammy listen...”

Not Sammy. Anything but that. When it was affectionate and warm and during certain times in their lives he looked on it fondly. It felt good. Not so much when Dean was gearing up to be the responsible big brother. A strength needed for that he didn’t exactly have anymore. And Sam didn’t expect it. He didn’t exactly need it. Realizing he needed to stop panicking and looking to Dean for everything in his life had been a big moment for both of them whether Dean knew it or not and a huge turning point. So had Dean’s disorder. And he couldn’t help but feel like for the better. Unfortunately Dean hadn’t made any of the progress on it that Sam had. He still tried to be the big brother and he was still stuck in the past, in taking care of Sam - at all costs, especially to himself. It made them horribly uneven at times. Most times. Like there was this gap between them that just grew and grew.

“Dean. It’s nothing.” Sam said to him patiently, meeting his eyes levelly with his own, trying say it as calmly as he could. “I don’t need anything from you Dean. I don’t expect anything. Everything is okay.”

So why had that looked like his words had physically wounded Dean a bit, just a little? Before he covered up his reaction and smoothed everything back in place. Dean would like to think he was unreadable but he was pretty readable to Sam. Practically obvious. And the absolute opposite of what Sam was trying to accomplish had happened. He’d hurt Dean. And he quickly tried to think of why.

Sam sighed, gentling his tone when he realized what it might be. “I need you Dean. Just not like I used too.” he motioned to the bag. “Not like that. I just need _you_. With me. Here. As you are. That’s all.”

Dean’s shoulders softened from their hurt, tense line and he stopped fidgeting with his hands, turning a smile in his direction. “I just wanted to make sure.” he said softly.

Sam reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Of course Dean, I-”

His cell phone ringing was a surprise and him and Dean both naturally tensed. Taking it out of his pocket however Sam relaxed and tensed for different reasons seeing that it was Bobby. “Yeah, Bobby this is Sam. Everything okay?” he answered.

_“Yes and no. I have a lead on what I think might be a Kitsune. I hate to throw this on you guys so soon but-”_

“No it’s okay.” Sam admitted he probably was a bit desperate to take up something normal or at least what qualified for them as normal, looking up at Dean and meeting his eyes with his own. “Give me what you got.”

They met Bobby at an roadside diner just outside of Sioux Falls and while Dean’s energy had immediately shifted driving back to this city or at least anywhere near it, the feeling was very mutual. Bobby shared a look of concern in Dean’s direction while the older Winchester wasn’t looking. “Yeah I know this place doesn’t exactly have good memories but I got this call and I don’t know how much to buy into it. Kitsunes are rare. Damn rare. But it checks out.”

“All right, Bobby. You should hang back. Dean and I will take care of it.” Sam said.

“Yeah.” his brother mused, glancing around, his tone quiet and grim. The overcast day wasn’t helping anything that was for sure. He glanced over at Bobby. “Tell him all that you got. I’m going to restock at that convenience store.”

“Sure.” Sam agreed, glancing over at the convenience store about ten or so yards from the abandoned diner, giving Dean a smile. It wasn’t exactly returned.

With a concerned, knowing gaze, Bobby watched him leave. Only speaking and even then in a quiet murmur once he was out of earshot. “How’s he doing, Sam?”

“Okay. I think. I wouldn’t have taken this case if I didn’t think he was ready for it.”

“No word from Cas?”

Sam winced and averted his eyes away from his brother. “No.” he drew in a quick breath. “Tell me what you got on the Kitsune. Everything.”

Bobby nodded and drew in a breath to do just that. But once he was finished it wasn’t much to go on. It was a good start but there was a lot of ground work to do. Per usual.

The older man gave Sam a look once he was finished. “You all right Sam? You look a little...”

Rattled? Probably and Sam let out a quick breath. “It’s nothing I...” he winced and reached up, rubbing at his forehead, closing his eyes and willing the headache he'd had since earlier that morning to subside. He let out a quick breath. “Dean almost found out about his condition. Everything.”

Bobby gave him a look that border lined on horrified. “What?” he managed.

“Yeah, yeah I know. That damn laptop bag. I have to replace it as soon as possible. We were arguing, about how much time he’d lost this time and everything was fine! I had talked him down and we were okay. And then he picked up my laptop bag, the zipper broke, and everything fell out of it.”

Shocked knowing descended on Bobby’s face and in his eyes. “Everything.”

“Everything.” Sam let out a rough breath, shifting an awkward glance away. “I managed to convince him that everything that fell out was mine.”

”Oh Sam...”

“What was I supposed to do Bobby? He’s not ready. You know that.”

“I know that. You know that. Jesus that boy would be a wreck if he found out. But-”

“Found out what?”

The quiet, cold demand from behind them was like ice water being thrown over Sam’s head.

 

TBC (1/3)


	5. All These Broken Pieces II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to make this three parts, the last will be up tomorrow. I decided to do this because I had the sudden urge to finish it from Dean's perspective. God help us all.

 

Sometimes it was said that Sam was the better hunter between the two Winchester brothers. More times than Sam could count people underestimated both Dean’s intelligence and his own respective skills as a hunter. But the fact that he’d managed to catch them unawares now, even as exhausted as Sam felt, was testament against those assumptions.

“Dean...” Sam said, raising his hands. A mirror echo to no more than a few hours ago. But this time he knew there’d be no explaining this to Dean, talking him down from his own assumptions. There was no hiding his disorder anymore.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean demanded and he looked a bit shaken. Sam didn’t blame him and it hurt him to see Dean like this. It had hurt him to lie to his brother in the first place. Especially for all these years. All those misplaced lapses of time.

“Dean.” Bobby tried, raising his own hands in a placating gesture. “We can explain. You just gotta listen to us.”

Dean shifted his eyes to Sam and the younger Winchester hated to see the mistrust there, the wariness, the unsure look in his eyes. Sam had lied to him, Dean knew it now and he was struggling to understand everything that had happened today. For the past months. Again, Sam didn’t blame him. He’d be reeling too.

“Can we go somewhere?” Sam asked, “To talk about this?”

“No.” Dean said, voice hard. “We’re talking about this right now. Right here.”

“Okay. That’s fair.” Sam agreed, taking a breath to calm himself. To try and still his nerves. And it really wasn’t working. “Dean do you remember that case we had years ago in Kansas at that old farm? The poltergeist Mary? About twelve years old?”

“Yeah.” Dean said, his eyes darkening with pain at the memories. Sam didn’t blame him. But then suddenly realization lit up in Dean’s expression too. As much as he didn’t appear to want to recall that night. The night Sam had almost lost his life. “That was the first time I blacked out. You said I fell. That we both fell from the hayloft. And the head injury... But Sam I remember holding you in my arms. You were bleeding out-” Dean’s voice momentarily broke and he shifted his eyes away. “I remember that.” he said, looking back to Sam. “I’ll never forget it. But you said I fell too. When I woke up it was weeks later. Eight _months_ later.”

“Dean.” Sam said, gentling his tone further. “You’re right. You didn’t fall from the hayloft. But...” he let out a quick breath and drove himself on before he lost the nerve. “You got hurt that night too Dean. Something in you, something repressed, it broke. Your personality split into three separate parts. Parts of you that were hurt at various points in your life. Were told they weren’t okay. That they weren’t right.”

“Sam-” and Dean really did look scared now, or at least he was trying to hide it but Sam could see it in his eyes. “Are you telling me I have... I have more than one personality in my head?”

“Yes. Yes Dean you do.”

Sam fell quiet, at least for the moment, letting Dean process some of it. But it wasn’t like his brother was even letting himself do that. His mind seemed to be stumbling over what was happening and his panicked, shock stricken expression was painful to see. And anger. He was angry but Sam felt like it was at the situation mostly and not him or Bobby. Not yet.

“There are other people inside my head?” Dean managed.

“They’re you Dean-” Bobby assured him but, alarmed, Dean cut him off.

“They? How many are there!" he demanded.

“Just two.” Bobby said. “Just two Dean. And they’re both you. It's not exactly what you think.”

Seeing Dean’s upset confusion, Sam hastened to explain. “When you were three years old, nearly four, mom died. And dad took you and me and he started hunting what killed her.”

“Yeah.” Dean said roughly.

“You told me later. You said to me that you remembered dad putting me in your arms that night and telling you to take care of me. To watch over me.”

Dean managed a somewhat broken nod and Sam’s own heart broke but it was Bobby that spoke up beside him. Probably for the better. “Dean you were three years old. That’s... That’s too damn much to put on any child!”

“How did you feel then? Raising me Dean? How did it make you feel?” Sam asked. Despite how much it would hurt to hear Dean’s answer he already knew what it was and he pushed his hurt temporarily aside. He couldn't focus on that right now. And he felt like he might be racing to beat another regression. Facing all this suddenly head on, what would that do to Dean? Sam had never thought that question would be answered, or at least he hoped not, but now it was right there in front of him.

“Sam.” Dean said, a bit brokenly.

“It’s okay.” Sam reassured him soothingly and he had to force back tears, his own voice momentarily unsteady. Even now Dean didn’t feel like it was all right just to express his own feelings, especially of those kind. That it broke the sacred big brother rule. “Your feelings aren’t wrong Dean. It’s okay to express them. It’s okay.”

“I felt like it wasn’t right.” Dean forced out a breath later.

“What wasn’t right?” Bobby pressed, latching onto Sam’s reasoning, catching on to what he was trying to do. Walk Dean through how his psyche had been shattered and where.

“To be my age. To be anything anymore but what dad wanted.”

Dean suddenly looked a number of things. Sick. Scared. Overwhelmed. Like the confession had taken all that he’d had. Or all that he’d had left.

“It’s okay Dean.” Bobby soothed. “It’s okay.”

“We think that’s where your first personality came from. When it broke off from the rest of you.” Sam said gently, taking a few steps forward, trying to close the distance. He needed to be nearer and he couldn’t stand not to be anymore. “They’re both you Dean. Just at separate ages from your age now. They seem to be stuck in time. They don’t age. They don’t know whats going on around them like you do. They don’t change. But they’re both you.”

“What is that... split personality disorder?”

“Not exactly.” Bobby interjected. “You have three personalities. You, Dean, who you are right now..." Bobby hesitated but Dean was in no mood for it.

"So what?" Dean pushed angrily. "How bad is it? Who the hell are these people in my head?"

Sam let out a soft, pained breath and like ripping a bandage off, just got it over with. "The other personalities seem to be three or four years old and the other nearly eight months.”

Dean turned horrified eyes to Sam, meeting them in mute shock and disbelief. “Everything in that laptop bag wasn’t yours was it?”

“No Dean. It wasn’t.” Sam said as gently as he could, easing to a stop now two or so feet from him. Close enough to touch but he wasn’t sure that would be so well received yet so he kept his hands up, well within Dean’s sight.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy.” Dean said in a bit of a rush, taking two or three steps away from him. He looked so pale that Sam was worried he might actually faint and took two steps right with him, forward while his brother kept backing away. “Sam no, that - no way in hell-  _no_ -"

“Dean, son you have to try and calm down-” Bobby said.

“Why!?” Dean demanded, voice raising sharply. “Because I might not be me anymore? They might take over?”

“Yes.” Sam said in a rush of intuition he wasn’t sure where from but he had to ground Dean somehow. “It only happens in extreme circumstances. When you’re so exhausted you can’t take it anymore, you’re pushed too far, or you reach a breaking point but it’s rare. It’s very rare Dean but I need you to stay calm. You’re safe, everything is okay, nothing is going to happen-”

“You don’t know that!” Dean was backing up too fast for Sam to almost walk towards him, forcing him to quicken his pace now, but fortunately Dean was backing up right towards a wooden fence. “Do you?”

“Dean you have to trust me-”

And Dean hit the fence but it seemed to also bring him back a bit, the man taking in gasping breaths in his panic and shock. Sam stopped walking, raising his hands a bit higher in a gesture he hoped was soothing, more than anything he knew Dean didn’t need to be crowded right now.

“So what?” Dean managed. “I - I go away and suddenly I’m four or - or a fucking baby or whatever-?”

“Yes-”

“And you... and you and Bobby-?” Dean suddenly looked a subtly different shade than white and broke away from the fence, grabbing onto where it ended and leaning over - turning his back to Sam and promptly throwing up all the greasy take out he’d had for breakfast.

Sam hated to do it, but he left him alone and stayed as near as he could. He knew Dean wouldn’t tolerate him trying to help right now. Actually the opposite. Sam also knew that it was primarily shame and guilt driving Dean into this vomit inducing panic. And he wished more than anything he could talk him down from it but he suddenly didn’t feel qualified. Bobby however seemed to be having the same thoughts. Because while Sam tried to talk to Dean, tried to assure him that it was going to be okay and hoping that at some point he wasn’t suddenly left with a three or eight month old and Dean would be gone again, a car pulled up. Just as Dean all but collapsed against the fence, sitting heavily against it as he slid to the cold concrete pavement beneath him.

 

_Missouri, Present_

  
The person Bobby had called had been an old friend of his. Well Bobby hadn’t exactly used the term 'friend' but someone he could at least trust. A former criminal analyst from the FBI, Shiela Felds had a strong background in psychology and dealing not only with victims of trauma but getting inside the heads of people others would well and rather stay clear away from.

She’d been a hard woman, a seasoned agent, but she’d handled Dean well. With not exactly gentleness but experience and reasoning. It had calmed Dean enough to convince him to drive back to Kansas and talk to the professor of psychology that had diagnosed Dean in the first place. The man Sam had gone too off and on over the years with any questions about Dean's disorder that he might have.

After that... after that Dean had nearly vanished. Shoving Sam so far away for a few weeks that Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever come back. But he had. For Sam. For everything that was going on in their lives and what was yet to come. They made a promise, that if Dean ever folded and left the building when things got bad or Sam couldn’t take care of him that Bobby would. Or a friend of Sam’s, Claire, that had been practically a lifeline for all the psychological layers of the adult baby lifestyle that was invested in it. Luckily Claire had only had to care for him once. Because Dean had been a hopeless wreck when he’d found out what he’d missed when he’d come back to himself. What had happened to Sam.

Sam glanced in the rear view mirror, trying to will himself to relax. Dean was fine. This was a positive step forward and he looked far more relaxed in Castiel’s arms.

The angel was holding him against his chest, talking to him softly, similar to how he did when he was a baby or even a toddler. The soft litany of words always did well to calm and distract him and it was doing no less to Dean now, even as an adult.

Dean had at first protested, claiming it felt weird. But with gentle prodding he’d also revealed that it felt good, better than good and Sam and Cas had been quick to praise the older Winchester for talking about his feelings. His true feelings and not the first four or five things that came out of his mouth on reflex that may or may not be the truth.

They drove to Claire’s house. In the end she was closer than any rental or vacation house they couldn’t exactly afford. Sam could make it happen and he wasn’t hesitant about that as far as seeing that Dean was taken care of. But Bobby’s house and Dean’s nursery was at least a day’s drive away. More. And the bunker was farther still. So thankfully that left Claire. Flying was absolutely not an option. Obviously.

Long behind them were the days of the pathetically small hidden compartment in his long since retired laptop bag. Now the Impala had a secret compartment in the back, just under the bench seat that could hold far more than it used too. Sam had enough to see them through for awhile, they could restock on supplies at Claire’s and she herself had a background in the ABDL lifestyle. It was why Sam often had turned to her in the past for answers, guidance, questions.

When they’d gone to college together she’d been a couple grades ahead of him but she’d abandoned her psychology degree for one in design. The two years she had though had been more than enough to turn too in desperate times. And her and her husband Mark, the man now unfortunately deceased for reasons he and Dean still struggled not to feel guilty over, had helped Sam more than a few times in the past.

She lived in a secluded neighborhood in a very nice, rural area on the very outskirts of the typical suburbia found in most larger cities. Or even bigger small towns. Her house was beautiful, surrounded by trees and flowers, a modest privacy fence gave way to a freshly painted white picket fence. It was idyllic. Perfect. The imposing black Impala practically looked sharply out of place among the freshly mowed lawns, flowerbeds filled with colorful plants and flowers, and the gleaming white picket fence. Claire had once called it an omen. Whenever she saw it pull up, she knew something was wrong.

He’d called ahead of time, he always did. Though she said jokingly her schedule was always open. And it was. She hadn’t started working yet though Sam urged her to consider trying. After Mark’s death, she worked primarily from home and made more than enough to keep herself happy. But she wasn’t interested in much else.

“Dean?” Sam asked gently after he got out of the car, having given a passing smile to Claire, who waited - concerned, near the doorway of the house. She’d returned the smile but she was worried and that was all right. Everyone was. Sam, Cas and probably Dean most of all. “Will you let me pick you up?”

“I can walk.” Dean protested quietly, lifting his head and giving a curious glance around them. “Claire’s?”

Sam reassured him without thought. “It’s the first place I thought of. Don’t worry Dean. Cas and I aren’t going anywhere.”

Dean appeared to think over this a minute, Cas resting a hand on his shoulder and tilting his head down to meet his eyes. “It’s perfectly acceptable to want what you want Dean. More than anything you need it.”

Sam nodded. “And until you don’t feel little anymore that’s exactly what you need to do.” he reached out and put a hand on his forearm, taking note of the warmth beneath his hand. “Just go through the motions. And we’ll help you with that.”

Dean debated inwardly for a moment, took a quiet breath, and looking more guilty than Sam had ever seen him - reached out his arms towards Sam.

“That’s a good boy Dean.” Castiel praised warmly, almost surprising Sam, worried Dean would get defensive or upset. But he just seemed to relax a little further, some of that guilt subsiding and Sam let out a low breath of relief and heartfelt love towards his big brother, reaching out to take him into his arms.

“That’s it Dean.” Sam murmured. “I’ve got you.”

 

TBC (2/3)


	6. All These Broken Pieces III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final part of 'All The Broken Pieces' separate three parter from Dean's perspective in which Sam remembers how Dean came to realize he had multiple personality disorder and how Dean found out how to let himself be whole and have things he'd long since denied himself. With a lot of help of course from his brother Sam and Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of this three parter! And it's from Dean's perspective. Sorry it took so long, stories of a similar nature have been doing so much better that I almost dropped this series of one shots entirely. And I'm still considering it. But for now I have one more one shot in mind and then maybe I'll make the full fifty. In it's class or 'genre' of ABDL or 'baby Dean' in whatever form - this one has been doing the worst. So I've been a little discouraged from working so hard on it. You guys keep me going though! Every single comment means the world to me and turns me around again. Thank you so much. Hope to give you more within a week. Also this is a made up Claire! Not Castiel's daughter! Thanks recent episodes of Supernatural for putting a mess up in that lol!

 

 

**ALL THE BROKEN PIECES (3/3)**

 

Dean let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, locked tightly within his own chest, as Sam lifted him up into his arms with an inhuman strength granted by Castiel with an ease that had nothing to do with his added strength.

It felt like he had done this a number of times before, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. As though he’d definitely had a lot of practice. And it was soothing to Dean as much it was slightly unnerving. Because he didn’t remember all those times he’d regressed or mentally checked out. But Sam did. And he obviously had a lot of experience with it.

“I know this isn’t easy.” Sam murmured in his ear once he was standing upright, arms holding him securely. “But thank you.”

Dean felt immensely confused as to why Sam was thanking him. He couldn’t process the meaning or understand it so he just let it go. Let it go into the abyss of immensely confusing things all this was made up of. Including his feelings although those were persistently sticking around. And it was unsettling and Dean would admit it only to himself - frightening. But here in his brothers arms, held so completely, without a thing to worry about anymore - it did ease the ache of those feelings. And the fear.

There was a promise in Sam’s arms. A purpose. An assurance that he’d keep him safe, take care of him, and that he didn’t expect anything in return for it. It lulled Dean. Soothed him in ways so deep down that he could scarcely process and, a bit exhausted by it all, he gave up the emotional fight for the time being and laid his head down on Sam’s shoulder.

“That’s a good boy Dean.” Sam murmured quietly, with a low breath of what sounded like relief and love - a large hand coming up to rest warmly on the back of Dean’s neck and head. “That’s it. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

And Sam did. He really did, Sam’s warm praise washing over him in a comforting, soothing wave. And Dean didn’t know why that was such a startling realization. He didn’t know what to do in this circumstance, he was clueless, but Sam and Castiel absolutely did. Again, like they’d had a lot of practice.

Dean felt a warm hand on his lower back and startled a bit, not sure who it was, those weren’t Sam’s hands but his brother’s voice came to him immediately. “You’re okay Dean.” he assured him and then Castiel spoke and Dean realized the hand on his back belonged to him.

“I’ll get everything out of the backseat. Why don’t you take him inside?” he said.

Almost dozing against Sam’s shoulder, though he still had a death grip on his jacket, Dean felt the taller man nod. “Yeah it’s a little chilly out here.”

Talking around him. They did that. But it didn’t feel strange. Actually it felt strangely good. Like no one was going to look to him to make decisions and that he didn’t have to worry about making them either. The control was out of his hands but he still felt like he had a say. That they cared about his feelings and his opinions. After all they were doing this for him and that was overwhelming in many ways. Too many for him to process. He certainly didn’t feel deserving.

Unexpectedly Dean had to blink back tears, struggling to stay relaxed as Sam carried him towards the house. He felt incredibly undeserving. Like he was betraying his very existence, everything he was to Sam. What was he if he wasn’t his big brother?

Sam couldn’t see his expression, had he made a sound? Dean wasn’t sure but somehow he knew he was upset, the hand that had left his neck coming back up to rest gently on the back of his head. “Ooh, hey. You okay Dean?”

All Dean could do was manage a pathetic nod against his brother’s jacket, willing Sam to just let it go. He was doing so much as it was. Dean didn’t need to add to it by being a well... wasn’t that an ironic thought. A baby.

While he could hear in what Sam said next that he wasn’t buying it, he did temporarily let it go as Dean was hoping he would, rubbing a hand gently over his back in firm circles. “Okay.” he murmured. “It’s okay. Just relax for me. You’re doing great.”

Was he? Dean felt like an overwhelmed, clueless mess without any sense of direction.

“Hey.” Claire said to Sam warmly. “How’s he doing? Is he...?”

“Still Dean.” Sam said.

“Good.” Claire breathed a bit of relief but Dean sensed it was more than that. Like she wasn’t relieved so much he hadn’t regressed but that he was like this, allowing this, as he was. And again Dean had the sense that they all had a plan but him. “That’s really good. Come inside.”

Dean drew in a bit of breath, telling himself he wasn’t hiding his face in Sam’s jacket. He really wasn’t. He kept his eyes averted to the floor over a jacket sleeve as Sam moved, the wooden porch and the flowers on it in a pot near the door giving way to a doorway and kitchen tile, butterflies in his gut he couldn’t explain.

Something inside him though was feeling deeply reassured and content. Or at least more than before. He’d been a wreck of anxiety a mere few hours ago. And it had only built, and built from the past few weeks. He hadn’t known what was really going on but then the... feelings had started. Feelings for things that had made him so deeply ashamed of himself, living from case to case with as little time in between was the only thing he could think of to do. And it worked but it also, at the same time, made those feelings much worse once it was all over.

Once in the kitchen he heard passing words between Claire and Castiel but Dean was momentarily distracted by Sam moving to sit down and he didn’t catch what they were saying. He was concerned he should move before he was in Sam’s lap. That was the appropriate thing to do right? But Sam just moved one of his legs from around a hip as he sat down, shifting Dean comfortably in his lap with that same ease as before.

And that was all right. Dean hadn’t wanted to let go of him anyhow.

Claire came into his line of sight all of a sudden, though she was moving quietly and not too quickly, and Dean repressed and bit down on the sudden urge to hide his face in Sam’s shoulder. His embarrassment at the thought was only slightly smoothed over by Claire’s gently concerned smile. “Hey, Dean. I know how much you like questions but I’m going to need you to try and answer a few before we go any further. Okay?”

Dean decided that made sense for some reason, nodding a bit, rewarded with Sam gently patting his back with a reassuring hand.

Claire pulled a chair over from nearby, not asking Dean to move as she sat down in front of him, a couple feet away at least. He was grateful. She didn’t feel like she was crowding him in the slightest.

“You said you feel little.” she said and Dean hesitated, but just nodded.

This was Claire. A woman who’d apparently taken care of him for months as a toddler whether he remembered it or not. Strangely, in the vaguest of ways he did. He remembered warm sunshine, grass that shouldn’t be as green as it was and flowers. He remembered finger painting on a white picket fence, being more happy than he could ever recall being, her perfume and the sense of maternal safety her very presence exuded.

“Do you have feelings you can’t explain? Things that you feel you want Dean? Desires that you may not understand?”

He may have given her a look like ‘how the hell could you have known that’ because she breathed a gentle, understanding smile at him. “Dean those are coming from your other personalities. You’re recovering whether you know it or not. It’s a good sign. It means you’re not so fragmented, mentally. That those lines are blurring. And that they might be ready someday to dissolve. So that you can be whole again.”

That was an overwhelming thought. He wanted to be better. He wanted his own damn mind back. He wanted to know that he wouldn’t crack and disappear when Sam needed him most. He wanted to stop being a ridiculous burden. And he wanted all this to stop feeling so damn good. To stop wanting it so much. To stop leaning on his brother too hard.

“I know this is going to be hard Dean but you’re in a room full of people who love you. And who just want to help you.” Claire smiled, leaning forward on her elbows and meeting his eyes in a look that was just too knowing. He blamed the psychology degree but he couldn’t shake that she knew him too. She’d seen the most vulnerable parts. And he could still call her a friend. “You ready for those questions?”

No. No he was not.

“Yes.” he forced himself to say. Better to get it over with.

“It’s okay Dean.” she said softly, softer and gentler than before and she slid over a bag out of his line to rest by her feet, pulling her chair a bit closer to him. “I’m going to do this as gently as possible. Just keep being brave.”

Brave? He was scared shit-less. Of a bag and whatever might be in it. How stupid was that?

The first thing she took out, unmistakably, was an adult diaper - those bluer than blue eyes of hers turning up to his. It was only Sam’s reassuring hand on his back, soothing large circles into his shoulders, that kept that irrational feeling to run away at bay that he was experiencing, that was for sure.

“Looking at this now, how does it make you feel? Just answer with the first word that comes to mind. There’s no wrong answer.”

Well that was easy. “Scared.” Dean said immediately.

“Anything else?”

Yes. But he wasn’t going to say it.

“Come on Dean.” Sam murmured. “You can do it.”

Dean winced and oh this was painful. Yeah this was going to hurt if this kept going. It really did. “Safe.” he forced out, tears suddenly blurring his vision in his shame and embarrassment.

He sensed Castiel move, off to the side, and Claire gave him a look that struck Dean as very reassuring and the angel stayed where he was. Though restlessly it seemed.

“Would you like to wear one?” Claire asked.

“No.” Dean said quickly, almost cutting her off mid-sentence. And it was the truth. It really as was. How a piece of plastic and cloth could be so damn terrifying he’d never know but Dean was suddenly wishing for a Wendigo. Now that was a fear he understood. One he could face down and make go away. What he was good at. This... This was terrifying beyond all reason.

Claire raised her hands reassuringly. “It’s okay.” she assured him, putting the adult diaper away and taking out an adult baby bottle -

“No.” Dean said just as quickly as before. Before she could even lift it or ask and Claire gave him a somewhat surprised look but that was most certainly how he felt. Scared. Of all this. Just... no. While another side of him was clearly saying yes.

“No?” she asked.

“Yeah I...” Dean winced and let out a quick breath. “No. Just no.”

“Dean.” Sam questioned softly, concerned. “Do you feel anything else? Or just fear?”

Dean winced and screw being brave, he turned his head away into Sam’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay.” Sam murmured, taking the hand away from his back and putting it back on his neck. “I think he’s done for now. Let’s just take a break. I’m going to take him upstairs.”

He was standing before anyone even answered and Dean was extremely relieved they were leaving the room but he couldn’t help but feel like a coward and a failure. Answer a few questions, how hard could that be? But he’d failed. Miserably. And by the time Sam stopped walking, carrying him out of the room, up a flight of a wooden grand staircase, and into a room Dean didn’t see anything but the floor of - his eyes were so blurred anyway from tears that he had no idea where they were.

“Put me down. Please.” he managed.

Sam seemed surprised enough to listen but Dean’s hands betrayed him, refusing to let go of his brother’s jacket. And then his mouth did a lot worse. “Sam just make it stop.”

“What Dean?” Sam soothed, immediately drawing Dean closer, “Make what stop? Tell me what you’re feeling.” he urged, voice tight with concern.

“Anxiety? Fear. It’s just so much I-” he gave a small, hiccuped gasp and swallowed down the words he’d almost said next. ‘I feel like I’m losing myself’. And was he? Was that what it was? Would he black out and wake up months later or whenever he decided to crawl back out of whatever corner of his mind he retreated too?

Sam, to his credit, stayed calm though Dean sensed he was frustrated. Probably mad at him, tired of him, the little negative voices in his head, thankfully metaphorical ones and not literal ones, told him. He just shifted Dean closer against his body with a low breath of concern and then he started to rock and bounce him a little bit in his arms, slightly, gently. Like someone would a fussy baby. And it felt too good for Dean to protest. He didn’t want down. He really, really didn’t.

“Shhhh.” Sam soothed and how had his voice managed to get even more soothing than it had been lately? But it did. And it was low, soft, and so calm. So sure. Like there was nothing in the world Dean had to be afraid of. Not when Sam had him. Not like this. “Everything’s okay, Dean. I’ve got you. I’m right here. You’re okay... you’re okay Dean.”

It took awhile before Dean managed to calm down a little but Sam was patient. He walked around the room with him, bouncing him in his arms, occasionally stopping to rock him - talking to him every so often, low murmurs of soothing assurance that everything was okay. Dean hung onto every word. He was exhausted. He was starting to actually drift off against Sam’s shoulder. But the younger Winchester persistently soothed his anxiety away. Until the tears were drying on Dean’s face, his hands didn’t have so much of a death grip on Sam’s jacket, and he was barely awake.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, enough for him to be almost a sleep when he heard Cas’ low murmured words to Sam, waking enough to catch hear Sam’s response. “Thanks Cas.” he whispered to him.

“Do you want me to try?”

“Sure.” Sam said, reaching up and putting a hand on the back of Dean’s head, turning his own so that he was speaking softly into his ear with what he said next. “Dean?” he whispered. “We’ve got a bottle here for you. Would you try and take it for me and Cas? Hm? Just try for me buddy.”

“Take it where?” Dean asked without thinking, not realizing what he’d said until he was properly awake. But Cas just chuckled and Sam breathed a gentle smile.

“Come here, Dean.” Castiel murmured and something in Dean just went without a fight as he was easily and carefully passed over between the two of them. He told himself it was because he was tired. Exhausted really. Because he felt a little sick, feverish.

“Good boy, Dean.” Sam whispered softly, and Dean felt his face warm under the praise. “Cas I’m going to get him something for his fever.”

“Claire put some children’s Motrin in the bottle.” Cas said, reaching out and putting a hand on Dean’s forehead. “But it wouldn’t hurt to check his fever.”

“Yeah.” Sam met Dean’s eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

It was just him and Cas now. For some reason that made Dean relax just a bit more. With Sam around, he couldn’t help but feel remarkably ashamed. Like he was letting him down, doing the opposite of what he should. He still felt ashamed but the ‘big brother’ pressure abated a little bit when it was just the two of them.

“Claire made your favorite.” Castiel murmured, sitting easily with him in a modern looking rocking chair. It had IKEA written all over it. Dean didn’t pay much attention to it beyond that. Within the space of a smooth, easy few seconds he was settled in Castiel’s lap, gazing up at him with an expression that was probably a little wide eyed and bewildered. He didn’t know what was more surreal about this situation. That it was happening at all or that the angel looked so... at ease. Like he’d been doing this for well... well when Dean thought of it that way he’d done it more than a few times. But it was more than that. It was just so... easy. It was like he really was the age he strongly felt like right now. As if there was no difference in the world.

Dean gave a look at the bottle in his hands. Favorite? That thought was strange too. He had a favorite?

“Which one?” Dean thought, today was the day apparently for dumb questions.

But Castiel didn’t seem to think so, seeming to understand. “The alternate personality we call ‘baby Dean’.”

“Right.” Dean said, swallowing nervously and looking at the bottle. “What do I do with it?” he winced and would have face palmed if he wasn’t terrified enough to move. “Dumb question. Really dumb question.”

But he licked his lips a bit. A part of him wanted it. A part him knew exactly what that was... and terrifyingly enough, that part felt like him. Not some repressed, fractured corner of himself although it was coming from there too. He wanted it. And it was hopelessly confusing but at the same time it made sense. Is that why a part of him had broken away? Because he’d made to feel like it wasn’t all right?

“It’s real easy, Dean.” Castiel said, “I’m going to tip this down and-”

“Yeah I get the concept.”

“Take a breath.” the angel said softly, understandingly.

Dean realized he hadn’t exactly done a lot of that lately and took a quick breath.

“Good, Dean. Good.”

Castiel was patient, infinitely patient, when Dean at first hesitated but then took the rubber teat of the bottle into his mouth. It felt so strange, he immediately wanted to spit it out, but another part - a strong part - was sucking down on it before he could run away from the entire aspect.

“Good, Dean.” Castiel crooned in a low, praising and steady voice. “Very good.”

It was good. It tasted like apples, just a bit of cinnamon and creamy vanilla. The aftertaste wasn’t so good but it was barely even noticeable. Had to be the medicine he thought. And he didn’t know how but he just did. It was incredible. And most of his body just suddenly relaxed and gave up whatever fight he’d been fighting. Mostly against himself. It started at his toes and worked it’s way up. A soothing of all his tension in places he didn’t even know he had, into the strength of the arms beneath him.

It seemed to be instinctual. Pushing his tongue against the underside of the rubber teat made it come out to fast but he figured out how to pull with his lips and apply just enough pressure that he didn’t drown. He was hungry. He’d forgotten how much and Castiel’s warm praise was guiltily addicting. He was almost too distracted by the bottle in his mouth to hear what he said next, and he was just a bit startled.

“Good, Dean. Very, very good.” he soothed, gravely voice pitched just above a whisper.

Dean flushed under his words, feeling a little flustered, but damn it was good. What was in that bottle was really good and the act of feeding from itself felt better than good. It was wholly indescribable.

He was pretty much doomed already, fighting to stay awake under Castiel’s soft words, the bottle he was suckling from but then the angel began to rock him in the chair and he’d had it. It didn’t take long, nearing the end of the bottle before his eyes were almost completely closed and he was comfortable dozing right on the edge of sleep. Anymore of this and he would fall asleep but suddenly, gently the rubber teat of the bottle was taking out of his mouth.

“There we go Dean.” Castiel whispered, “Very good.”

Dean started to open his eyes, frowning in confusion, already missing the comforting feel of the teat in his mouth but he was being lifted and put up against a shoulder before he could even ask. He was so tired, his body so completely relaxed, that he didn’t even fight. But when Castiel’s hand landed gently on his back and started firm thumps, that woke him up a bit.

“Hey what the-” he protested, moving to sit up, as much as he really for some reason didn’t want too.

“Dean? Do you trust me.”

“Well yeah I-” Dean felt like that was a really unfair question.

Castiel met Dean’s eyes with a patient gaze. “We have to make sure there’s no air in your belly.”

Dean relaxed, letting himself be guided back down onto his shoulder, and let out a soft breath.

“Here you go.” Sam murmured, reaching out to put a towel down on Castiel’s shoulder. And where had he come from? Sam gave him a gentle smile, reaching up and touching the back of his head with a large hand. “Easy, Dean. It’s okay. Nothing we haven’t done before. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Ready Dean?” Castiel asked. “Here we go.”

The angel gave firm thumps on his back with his palm, certainly not enough to hurt but Dean felt them.They were steady and constant and but a few moments later, a well of air slipped past his lips with an audible burp following right after. He blinked, at first too stunned to be embarrassed and Sam breathed a gentle smile at him. “Atta way Dean. Good job.”

The rest came pretty easy. Over the next ten minutes or so, Dean wasn’t was even really sure, got a few more from him and Dean despite himself was dozing under his hands and in his arms. Sam was rubbing large circles against his lower back and that was certainly helping to thoroughly knock him out. And when a hand found his forehead to check for a fever, he wasn’t even startled and he didn’t shy away.

Sam was respectful when he changed him into different clothes. They were simple, not full on toddler or baby stuff, which he appreciated. And he was surprised that he wasn’t put in a crib. But he didn’t want to be in one and that seemed to be silently understood among Castiel and Sam.

“Fever’s gone down.” Sam murmured, not to Dean.

Dean was almost very nearly too asleep to register it.

“Mmhm.” Castiel said approvingly.

“Good night Dean.” Sam whispered to him. “I’m not leaving. I’m going to be right here if you need me.”

Dean nodded, approving of this. And he was too tired at all to care how ‘weak’ that might be or how it wouldn’t be okay. He was too relaxed in ways he could never have imagined, he felt completely and utterly whole, safe and cared for like never before. He remembered his mother giving him the same feelings but that part of him had felt stripped away years ago. Shattered. Like his other alternate personalities.

Now he just felt strangely, but blissfully whole. And that for a change just like everything else, just like this, was okay.

 

~FIN~


End file.
